The Greatest Bowman
by melicitysmoak
Summary: An Arrow/Olicity AU where Felicity Smoak and Oliver Queen live in the middle of the 19th century when P.T. Barnum was beginning to be successful as a showman; told almost entirely from Felicity's POV as a tribute to her character on Arrow and to EBR, whose portrayal made FS iconic, memorable, and irreplaceable; chapter titles come from "The Greatest Showman" songs
1. Chapter 1: The Greatest Show

**The Greatest Bowman**

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_A/N: So. This is how I am coping with EBR's announcement that she will not be in Season 8 anymore. Actually, the idea for this AU crossover fic came to me last year, but because I had no more intentions of writing and posting any more fics, I did not bother writing it. But having to say goodbye to my favorite character on television changes things, and I plan to go out with Arrow with a bang. I hope you like my last fic - and I mean it, this time. :-)_

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**Chapter 1: The Greatest Show**

She never expected this… this spectacle of sights and sounds that overwhelmed her inner self. And Felicity Smoak was not easy to please. Every part of the greatest show she'd ever seen in the entirety of her young life had taken her breath away – the trapeze acts, the animal stunts, those strangely interesting human beings, the dazzling displays of unique human abilities. There was absolutely nothing quite like the extravaganza that Mr. Barnum has put together. It had transported her to another world in just less than two hours. To someone like her whose curiosity and brilliant mind constantly searched for satisfaction, the experience she'd just had was incredible!

Felicity already had a plan. She was going to scrimp and save her meager pay from the paper so that she could go and see another one of Mr. Barnum's shows, maybe even frequent his highly controversial theater and visit every other weekend. Her mother need not know. It was her money anyway, and her mother did not even know the truth about how she was earning her keep and helping them survive day after day. It wasn't easy – being immigrants in New York, without a man in the house to protect them and provide for them. But Felicity was just as resourceful as her mother, just as resilient and headstrong. They had promised themselves that they were going to start anew in America and leave the stigma of their past life behind, and P.T. Barnum's Circus was the perfect weekend getaway from Felicity's mundane life and from the challenges of the daily grind.

A circus. At first, she thought it odd that an old museum of wax figures of various sorts could be turned into a theater that promised "the greatest show on earth." Like most people in Starling City, Felicity used to think that Mr. Barnum was either too ambitious for his own good or simply out of his mind. Word had spread that Barnum had rounded up an entire cast made up of extraordinary persons that may be considered genetic anomalies, and a reference to something even remotely related to science had initially triggered Felicity's interest.

However, the literally "critical" reviews of J.G. Bennett in the_ Herald_ certainly hadn't helped convince her to come and see the shows sooner. The reviews weren't encouraging to say the least. Mr. Bennett had called Barnum's show a hoax, a commercial deception that took advantage of middle class people who were willing to take risks in spending their hard-earned money just to be entertained at the end of long week's work. Barnum's critics, as well as the protesters that still picketed in front of the theater from time to time, seemed reasonable, for the most part, in Felicity's opinion.

For months, Felicity had vacillated between buying a ticket at Barnum's box office and just saving her money to buy more paper, pen, and ink to sustain her part-time (and very temporary) employment at the newspaper. Nevertheless, for some strange reason, each time she passed the theater on her way home, she had always felt like something about it kept drawing her in. Felicity disliked mysteries that remained unsolved. So, one day she finally motivated herself to pay for her first ticket and see the show that Saturday night.

She did not regret every penny she spent.

A grown woman with a beard as thick as a jungle's foliage. A man whose body was covered entirely by tattoos and piercings. A doglike human being. A pretty girl dressed in pink satin and lace and feathers, who was obviously bi-racial, hanging from a rope with no nets below to catch her. And oh, that adorable little man riding on a galloping horse! Felicity was completely fascinated by them.

By _him_.

He wasn't a freak like the others. Physically speaking, there was nothing abnormal or peculiar about him. Except of course for his well-built, muscular body, which had perfectly filled the dark green leather outfit he wore. Unfortunately for Felicity, his well-defined, stubbly jaw line was all that she could see of his face. She had wished the hood he'd worn did not cover the upper part of his head. She had wanted to see his eyes, for she believed the old adage that the eyes are the windows to one's soul. She had wondered what his eyes looked like. For a mysterious man with a magnificent frame, she was willing to wager that his eyes were just as grand and captivating.

As soon as the hooded archer's act had been introduced, her attention had been immediately captured. "The Green Arrow," as Barnum had called him, was highly adept with a bow and arrow. He shot his targets flawlessly while running through a maze of obstacles. At first the stunts were easy, but after a few minutes, the archer had escalated his game by aiming at moving targets. He then began to shoot two arrows at a time, and then three, to the thrilled satisfaction and raving applause of the audience. Best of all, he had attempted to shoot the various targets placed around the theater while swinging from a rope and even hanging from it upside-down. To say that Felicity was impressed would be an understatement. As far as she was concerned, he was greatest bowman she had even seen.

And she was going to see _him_… the show, rather… again. Next weekend. Even if meant that she had to skip a meal or two, maybe three, just to buy herself a ring-side ticket. She had to see him up close, perhaps even see him after the show. She didn't mind waiting out in the cold at the back stage exit and watch him leave.

She still wondered about those eyes of his, and she fell asleep that night dreaming of them.

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_A/N: Please let me know that I am not the only Arrow fan who also loves The Greatest Showman and its songs. It would be nice to know if this farewell fic is worth your time and mine. ;-)_


	2. Chapter 2: A Million Dreams

**The Greatest Bowman**

**Chapter 2: A Million Dreams**

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From where she stood inconspicuously beside a huge, ornate pillar in the corner of the spacious ballroom, Felicity still had an unobstructed view of the main entrance where Starling City's crème de la crème entered – more like glided – into the spacious venue on a crimson carpet that ended where the parquet dance floor began.

She'd hardly been to any of these elegant social gatherings before. The closest thing comparable to this was the debutante's ball hosted by the Mr. and Mrs. Bowen for their daughter the previous year, and the only reason she ever got invited to that one even if she was neither friend nor family was that her mother was employed as one of the housekeeping staff of the Bowens. That ball had already been extravagant, in her humble opinion, and she remembered having felt extremely underdressed for the occasion. This charity gala, however, was on a whole different level of extravagance. Felicity thought that the resources spent for such a lavish fundraiser for the orphanage could have already been used for food, beddings, and clothes that the children and the staff would be needing for the coming winter season; even then, they still would have so much surplus for books, learning materials and equipment, and even the outdoor trips that they needed for the education of the orphans. If anyone asked her, she'd say that the gala was nothing more than reckless spending – an outrageously wasteful excuse for the city's rich and famous to socialize and, at least, commiserate with the underprivileged in the name of charity.

Scarcely had she gotten off the modest carriage that Dr. Harrison Wells, her employer, had rented for the orphanage staff's commute to the famous Starling City Pavilion earlier when she had already judged the evening to be an utter waste of her precious time. Mingling with the city's elite and high-browed socialites was certainly not something she was looking forward to. She dreaded it, in fact.

Felicity glanced at the grand entrance once more, after having surveyed the entire room that was fast becoming occupied with well-dressed, distinguished men and women. Standing there at the giant mahogany-posted open doorway was a dark-haired gentleman that was to be her saving grace that night. Thomas Merlyn. _The_ Thomas Merlyn, son of the shipping business tycoon Malcolm Merlyn. Her heart began to beat with excitement. How was it that one of the most controversial and celebrated bachelors of Starling was invited to this charity event? Was she going to get the chance to meet him personally? Felicity wondered.

Thomas Merlyn was well-known not just for his charm and charisma – a quality that attracted most females in every social class in their part of the country. The man was oozing with confidence, and even as he walked down the red carpet, with his equally gorgeous date by his side, Felicity could sense the vibrant effect he had on everyone in the room. His wide smile captured the attention of guests as they passed by, and judging by the way he greeted the people, it seemed like he had known most of them his whole life.

Yet there was another thing that Thomas Merlyn was famous for. The entire city knew very well about his estrangement from his father, which began when he had chosen a different path for himself while he was in the university. He had chosen to become a playwright rather than a businessman who would carry on the family business. The rift between him and his father had only gotten worse when his mother, the only person who could reason with either one of them, had passed away. After that, the relationship between father and son had been broken irreparably when Thomas made yet another decision that his father vehemently disapproved of – that of joining P.T. Barnum's bizarre and scandalous enterprise (his father's words, not his).

Felicity had gone to Barnum's shows three times already in the last three months, and in the last two shows, she had seen Thomas Merlyn there. On center stage. Apparently, for several months now, he had been the alternate "ringmaster," as Barnum called the host of his show. Interestingly enough, the young Merlyn was even better at hosting the shows than Barnum was. His signature charisma drew in the crowds, and the theater was even more packed now than when she first came to see a show. She wouldn't be surprised if Barnum eventually decided to make Merlyn the lead ringmaster; the move would no doubt increase his profit.

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As soon as most of the guests had arrived, Dr. Wells collected the orphanage staff and led them to their tables. To Felicity's delight, she found that she was to be seated in the same round table as Thomas Merlyn. At once she regretted misjudging how the evening was going to be a bore or a disaster. With Merlyn at the table, she thought that something good might still come out of the initial horrors of dressing up in chiffon and lace and four-inch-heeled satin slippers. While previously she had resented having to miss Barnum's shows for four consecutive weekends in order to save money to accessorize her mother's modest ball gown with more trimmings and ribbons than she would care to adorn herself with, getting to dine in the same table as Mr. Merlyn now became well worth the sacrifices she had had to make to attend the event intended for the orphanage that she worked for.

Bartholomew Allen, or 'Barry' as Felicity fondly called him, was standing right next to her as Dr. Wells made the introductions between Mr. Merlyn and the staff. Barry was a very good friend, the first one she had made actually, when she and her mother settled in Starling City. He was the one that had offered her a job in the orphanage to help him teach the children there. The pay wasn't much; it was just enough to help her mother pay for monthly utilities, but the opportunity of helping orphans learn was priceless.

Two years ago, Barry had introduced her to Dr. Wells, the university professor and philanthropist that owned and managed the orphanage, and had put in a good word to him on her behalf. Dr. Wells had immediately recognized Felicity's potentials, intellectually and otherwise, and had encouraged her to pursue a college education. Dr. Wells had been very supportive of her dreams, despite the many obstacles that a young woman like her would have to hurdle in order to succeed in a society that did not offer many equal opportunities even for gifted females. Traditional social expectations of women were still quite established even in a cosmopolitan place like Starling, and often times, she felt like there was really no difference between the life they'd left and the life they now lived.

Felicity had a million dreams. She had actually stopped counting them since she was seven when her father had abandoned them mysteriously. It did not mean, however, that she had stopped dreaming of more. Coming to America had been one of them. Her mother had told her growing up that it was the land of opportunity, and that people like them – an uneducated, single mother and a fatherless young lady with a Jewish background – had the same chance as everybody else to become anything they wanted to be. As soon as they had disembarked from the ship that had taken them from the docks of London, Felicity breathed in the fresh American air. From New York City, she and her mother had settled in Starling City where she had found work in Bowen Manor through an employment agency.

Barry nudged her gently, startling her from her musings. "You need to stop staring at Merlyn," he whispered to her.

"I am _not_ staring," Felicity denied.

"Yes, you are. And it's not very ladylike," he remarked.

"I am already more ladylike tonight than I have ever been in my entire life," she retorted, as softly as she possible could without causing a scene.

"Well, try harder," he coaxed her. "You haven't even met the Queens. I hope you haven't forgotten how Dr. Wells wants us on our very best behavior in front of our biggest potential sponsors. The future of the orphanage depends on it."

"Of course, I haven't forgotten!" Her voice turned up a little louder than intended, and she cleared her throat in an attempt to ease the situation when the other occupants of the table seemed to have expressed annoyance at the noise they were making.

Dr. Wells came up to her and Barry and introduced Thomas Merlyn as the representative of the Rebecca Merlyn Foundation, which has been a long-time supporter of the orphanage. The woman beside him was introduced as Mr. Merlyn's fiancée, Laurel Lance. Both were very good friends of Robert and Moira Queen, the gala's guests of honor.

Felicity felt a tinge of disappointment over the fact that the handsome Merlyn was no longer an eligible bachelor, but she instantly berated herself internally, dismissing the jealous feeling she had of Ms. Lance. It wasn't as if she had any chance at all to be courted by someone like him. People like the Merlyns and the Queens… they were way out of her league. Girls like her did not get men like Thomas Merlyn. She was better off just pursuing her own dreams instead of pining for good-looking, wealthy heirs that needed neither college degrees nor hard labor to live successful, comfortable lives.

Dr. Wells finished introducing Barry. To her surprise, Thomas Merlyn stepped forward to properly and fondly make her acquaintance. "The pleasure is all mine, Ms. Smoak," was his response to Dr. Well's cordial introduction of her as one of the brilliant teachers in the orphanage. Mr. Merlyn had reached out and offered his hand, which Felicity took, much to her astonishment. But instead of a simple handshake, he had pulled up her hand to his lips and kissed it. "Please, call me Tommy. It is always a privilege to meet beautiful, intelligent young women who try to make a difference in this world." He grinned widely at her, and she blushed slightly. He seemed genuinely fascinated to meet her, but Felicity had only just met him to be able to tell whether or not he was sincere.

* * *

They were all seated for dinner. Felicity sat between Barry and Dr. Wells, while Thomas Merlyn and his fiancée were seated on the other side of the table across them. There were two empty seats beside Thomas. Whoever the two guests were, they were fashionably late. The appetizers had already been served after all.

The server was in the middle of asking Felicity whether she preferred the chicken or the lamb as her main course when the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes on approached Thomas from behind. He was even more handsome than Thomas Merlyn, a bit taller even. He had the bluest eyes, bluer than the summer sky or the waves of the Atlantic. His sandy blonde hair was cropped just right, and the scruff he grew along his jaw line – it reminded her of someone else she'd been spending too much time daydreaming about quite recently. The man was obviously a friend of Merlyn's, judging from the way he had tapped his friend's shoulders and greeted him. There was a petite young woman with dark brown hair standing beside him, smiling down at Thomas and his fiancée. Felicity was still staring at the newcomer to their table, watching him pull out the empty chair for the young lady to sit and then seating himself on the other empty chair. The server had grown impatient waiting for her answer and had decided on his own to place the lamb in front of her, regardless.

The rest of dinner proceeded without much incident, just ordinary conversations among old and new acquaintances. Felicity, however, couldn't help notice how the handsome but nameless man glanced at her from time to time. Maybe she was just imagining things. Maybe not. Still, it didn't hurt for her to keep an amused smile on her face well into dessert. The crème brulée, which she just took a teaspoonful of, was really delicious. But she had a feeling that it wasn't really what the very attractive guest sitting across from her was gazing upon.

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_A/N: _

_Just some clarifications:_  
_1\. There won't be a Felicity-Tommy pairing, although Tommy is going to play an important role in the story. And Barry Allen here is just a friend._  
_2\. In case you're wondering, teaching at the orphanage is Felicity's 'official' job in this fic. The job at the paper, which was first mentioned in chapter 1, is her other 'unofficial' job. It will become clearer in the succeeding chapters._

_So, how is this fic going for you? I'd love to hear your feedback. Thanks for reading! I hope this somehow helps those of us who are still coming to grips with Felicity Smoak leaving Arrow. (sigh)_


	3. Chapter 3: Come Alive

**The Greatest Bowman**

**Chapter 3: Come Alive**

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Felicity's mind was made up that the only good thing that had resulted from her attending the charity gala was the complimentary ticket she held in her hand. It was there that Thomas Merlyn – bless the charming man – had promised her a ringside seat at Barnum's theater when she had expressed how fascinated she'd been with their show. As promised, he'd had the free ticket delivered to the orphanage three days later, with a surprise gift. Mr. Merlyn had included a backstage pass with a handwritten note telling her that he was personally giving her a tour and introducing her to some of the cast members after the show. Felicity was thrilled.

The possible advantages of the experience she was about to have were many, especially as it pertains to her other job – the one that only her good friend Barry Allen and mentor Harrison Wells knew about. Felicity got the job at the _Starling City Herald_ six months ago because of the connections of Dr. Wells, who was good friends with the chief editor. Dr. Wells knew that Felicity, being a woman, had a very slim chance to get hired as a feature writer for the paper's Sunday edition, especially without prior experience. Yet, he believed in her and her capability, so he had shrewdly advised her to pursue the application under a masculine name. She had chosen her father's name, Noah Kuttler, as her pen name and had submitted several articles on science and technology related topics. The chief editor had been impressed by her content and writing style, and she had been hired immediately, albeit on a probationary and part-time basis. Since then, Felicity had gotten to write feature articles on science-related topics. People in the city, men and women alike, had been enthusiastically reading and discussing scientific facts, as well as Felicity's innovative ideas about them, over Sunday breakfast for the past six months. She had been duly but modestly compensated for every article published on the paper, and she was grateful (and relieved) that the chief editor was not pressing Dr. Wells to meet with Noah Kuttler face to face. Not yet, at least.

Felicity had been meaning to write an article on Barnum's shows, highlighting the so-called freaks of nature and investigating the possible scientific explanations behind such genetic anomalies. Since the first time she had seen the "circus," as the shows have been called, she had come to the conclusion that Mr. Bennett's reviews had been narrow-minded at best, and slanted at worst – a product of the man's prejudice and bigotry. She thought that if she could only get the chance to meet Barnum's "talents" personally and examine them closely without being impolite and obtrusive, she could better discern whether they were indeed hoaxes or not.

She stood in line for the show's opening Friday night after the charity gala. The ticket in her hand, as well as the backstage pass in her pocket, would enable her to get to the bottom of things, to investigate the veracity of both the critics' and the supporters' claims, and above all, to satisfy her curiosity and quest for knowledge and understanding. Then she would spend the wee hours of the morning until noon of the next day writing her article and have it sent quickly by special courier to the _Herald,_ hopefully in time for her editor to go over it and then send the Sunday paper to the press for printing and circulation.

In just a few minutes, the theater gate would open. Felicity was so excited to be able to watch another show again after a month. She wondered what new surprises Barnum had in store. She wondered if there were new production numbers, suspense-filled acts, and death-defying stunts. She also wondered if Thomas Merlyn was going to be the ringmaster that night and if he would recognize her from the audience.

She looked up and stared at the many colorful posters hanging on the walls outside the hall. Immediately her sight was drawn to the poster of the Green Arrow. He looked so much like the legendary Robin Hood, the tales she had listened to growing up in their hometown in central England, which was actually just a few miles north of Nottingham in the Midlands region. Perhaps that was why she'd been instinctively and intuitively drawn to the hooded archer. Perhaps it was also because of the mystery behind the man, which was shrouded by the hood that he wore over his head. Felicity wished that tonight he would lose the hood and show the audience his face, but she knew all too well that her wish was nothing more than just a wish.

Would she be able to meet him during the backstage tour that Mr. Merlyn promised? Maybe. It did not mean, though, that he would pull down his hood for her. The obscurity of his true identity seemed part of his act, and she had better accept the fact that she might never find out who the Green Arrow was. Felicity considered the possibility that this was the only mystery she would never get to solve, and it made her unpleasantly uncomfortable.

Once again, she looked at his poster up ahead. Even with the concealment of the upper part of the man's face, his features still made him very nice to look at. The way he posed with his bow at the ready accentuated his broad shoulders and muscular arms. She wondered if he would look better-looking or not if he was clean-shaven, but then she decided that the scruffy look suited him better.

She had only known one other person who had looked just as handsome with stubble, but she did not want to think about him at the moment. She had already been thinking about him all week long. That awful man did not deserve any more thought and attention from her than she had already wasted on him.

Oliver Queen. Yes, that was his name.

Felicity had heard about his appalling story, not just from the papers but from almost every conversation in public places in the past year or so. The only male Queen heir had gone on a business trip to East Asia at his father's bidding about four years ago, but he and the crew of the _Queen's Gambit_ had suffered shipwreck due to a tropical storm in the North China Sea. He'd been the only survivor, marooned on an island where he had learned to survive for three years until a Chinese fishing vessel had rescued him sometime in the previous year. His was an unbelievable story, and people from all walks of life in Starling City had various reactions to it. Some had nothing but pity for him and for his family, saying that the young man had lost his innocence and a significant amount of precious time. Others had been curious as to how he'd survived and how his solitary life in the tropical island had changed him. Still there were a few, like Felicity, who had felt that it was no one's business to speculate or to pry into the affairs of a man who had already suffered so much; he deserved his privacy just like everyone else. But now that she had finally met him, her overall impression of him by the end of the charity gala was that of arrogance and apathy. She had been sorely disappointed that his gorgeous looks was not matched by his less than amicable personality.

After dinner at the gala, when the master of ceremonies had announced that the dance floor was officially open, Thomas Merlyn had introduced Oliver as his best friend. Most of the people on their table, including Dr. Wells and Mrs. Stein, the head governess of the orphanage, had stood up to dance on the parquet floor in the middle of the grand ballroom. Tommy – as he had insisted on being called – had asked his fiancée to dance, leaving Felicity and Barry at the table with just the Queen siblings. Barry had then courteously asked the young lady if she'd like to dance, to which the younger Queen had replied enthusiastically, "Oh, I'd love to!"

With just Felicity and Oliver Queen left at the table, the burden of carrying on a decent conversation had fallen on her, since the older Queen's people skills seemed lacking. (Not that she blamed him for it, considering he'd spent three years alone on an island.) Attempting to strike up a friendly conversation with the handsome man who had been stealing furtive glances at her over dinner, Felicity had asked with a smile, "Do you not find dancing enjoyable, Mr. Queen? Not that I was asking you to dance, or that I was asking you to ask _me_ to dance. I was merely commenting on the fact that all the gentlemen at our table have already-"

"I'm sorry, but I don't dance," he had interrupted her babbling. He hadn't been rude about it. He had actually seemed amused, even if he had tried to hide it by not smiling.

"Well, me neither," she had told him. "Not that I don't know how to, because I do! Know how to dance, that is. In fact, I'd have you know that I was one of the best dancers in our school when I was younger. I just… I'm not used to this kind of formal ballroom kind of dancing that much." Felicity had begun to feel awkward about the whole conversation and had willed her tongue to no avail to stop getting ahead of her brain.

Oliver had simply looked at her intently and asked, "Do you always speak in fragments, Ms. Smoak?" He still had not smiled, but she could tell that he had been somewhat amused by her manner of speaking, whereas she had been positively mortified by it.

"What? Oh! I apologize for the way my mouth seems to have a mind of its own. It happens all the time. Sometimes scares people away. Always humiliates me beyond repair. And I'm doing it again, aren't I? I am truly sorry, for the rambling, which will end in three, two, one…"

"No apologies needed," he had assured her. "Your… words do not scare me."

Oliver had gazed upon her for a moment, but this time with the shadow of a smile on his face. She hadn't been sure what his impression of her had been exactly, because his beautiful blue eyes had lacked luster. Felicity had actually seen a certain sadness in them.

To her surprise, he then had surprised her by asking, "Would you like to take a walk with me, Ms. Smoak? The air in here isn't… I find the outdoors quite appealing, especially at night."

She had replied excitedly, "Yes, I would, thank you."

They had spent a good half an hour walking along the patio just outside the ballroom, engaged in an interesting yet often one-sided conversation in which Felicity had done most of the speaking and Oliver most of the listening. They had spoken about a wide range of topics – from those as profound as politics and the social ills that plagued the city to those as trivial as the day's weather. She had found his ideas concise yet very insightful. He, in turn, had told her how stimulating her opinions were. On a couple of occasions, Felicity had considered asking him about his time on the island, but she had held her tongue, remembering to respect his privacy.

Oliver had stopped walking when he had noticed her shivering from the cold, evening autumn air. He had removed his outer coat and draped it around her shoulders to keep her warm. She had afforded him a sweet smile in thanks, which he acknowledged with a gentlemanly nod. They had resumed their walk, her gloved hands linked through his arm.

By the end of their walk and talk, Felicity had counted the man worthy of her interest, perhaps even the slightest affection, for if she had been reading his signals and the situation correctly, she had every reason to think that he might have been interested in her, too. He had seemed genuinely pleased to be in her company, and she had felt the same way, even though she'd been a little nervous about whether or not he would take the initiative to ask if he could see her again. Felicity had found Oliver Queen a beautiful man on the outside and an intriguing person on the inside. At no point in their conversation had he made her feel like she was less of an individual because she was a woman; in fact, he had encouraged her curiosity and admired her pursuit of knowledge. His mere presence had made something inside of her come alive from deep slumber, and she had wanted nothing more at that moment but to get to know him more.

As they had made their way back to the ballroom, Oliver had paused once again, standing to face her with one of her hands in his. "Ms. Smoak," he said, looking into her eyes, "I wonder if you would care to-"

"Oliver! There you are," a woman's anxious voice had interrupted them. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

The voice belonged to Moira Queen, his mother, and the expression on her face upon seeing her son holding hands with someone who did not look like she belonged to her circle of high-society friends had betrayed her disapprobation of her son's companion. As if that hadn't been enough, Oliver had let go of Felicity's hands swiftly, as if his skin had been scorched by a piece of burning coal as soon as he had recognized his mother's voice and confirmed that it was her indeed that had called out to him.

Felicity had realized that she must have read him wrongly.

"Mother…"

"Oliver, your father is about to deliver his speech about becoming a major sponsor for the orphanage. You should… come back inside now," the Queen matriarch had commanded him subtly yet sternly. Moira Queen had looked at Felicity from head to foot and back, scrutinizing her with her disdainful look, and then she had turned around to go back into the ballroom.

"Ms. Smoak, I…"

"It's fine, Mr. Queen. You go on ahead," Felicity had told him, removing his coat from her shoulders as though she had suddenly developed an allergic reaction to it. "I think I'm just going to stay out here and enjoy the fresh air for a little while longer. Thank you."

And just like that, she had walked away from him in the opposite direction of the ballroom entrance. She hadn't wanted to hear anything else he had to say, which at that point might have only added insult to injury. Clearly, he had been ashamed to have been seen with someone like her. Had it been the real reason why he had taken her out for a walk? Felicity hadn't looked back to see the remorseful expression on his face before he too had turned away to leave her be.

* * *

_A/N: No worries. Angst and hurt eventually lead to comfort and romance. Just hand in there with me, okay? Share you thoughts on this one?_


	4. Chapter 4: The Other Side

**The Greatest Bowman**

**Chapter 4: The Other Side**

* * *

What was she thinking?! Perhaps that was just it: she wasn't really thinking.

It had been a spur of the moment decision, more like an involuntary response to the Green Arrow's open invitation. Felicity attributed her impulsive reaction to the excitement and exhilaration of Barnum's show that evening, which was just about to culminate in the hooded archer's thrilling final act.

Why had _she_ volunteered for this? Why had _he_ let her step into the ring and onto the platform at all?

The Green Arrow needed a volunteer from the audience to stand in as a human target. Well, she was not exactly _the_ target. They were going to tie her wrists with ropes, with her arms extended upwards and outwards above her head, and the archer was going to shoot the ropes with his arrows to free her. Felicity was fairly confident that the man could do it, for she had seen him do this act before; except, that night he had asked for a willing volunteer from the audience instead of one of the cast members, and he was going to shoot the ropes with two arrows simultaneously… with a blindfold… from more than thirty feet away. If she had known that he had tweaked the act and made it even more daring this way, she might not have been so eager to be his volunteer. Yet still, she had stood up on impulse with head held high and cried out, "I'll do it." Everyone in the theater had been astonished, including the evening's ringmaster, Tommy Merlyn. She did not know if the crowd's bewilderment was because they had thought her insane, or because it had taken a woman to volunteer (finally) for the act when no gentleman had been brave enough to try.

Felicity now stood on the platform, her arms raised. Her wrists were bound separately with ropes tied to two separate beams high up in the trusses of the edifice that housed the theater. Her heart was pounding like the hoofs of a thousand stallions galloping on hardened soil. She hoped that the hooded archer standing in front of her did not notice how suddenly anxious she was. The heaving of her chest was no longer veiled underneath her woolen coat, which she had taken off with the assistance of the stagehand who had bound her wrists with the ropes. Both her hands held on to the ropes tied around her wrists, as if that could help ground her. She tugged at them to see if they were secure. They were.

She wondered if the hooded archer could see how her hands trembled, like her lips did. After all, he was close enough for her to see him grinding his teeth and clenching his jaw. He wasn't close enough for her to see his face though, for he still wore his hood over his head such that a dark shadow concealed the upper half of his face.

Nevertheless, he was near enough for her to hear him speak with a low, well-modulated voice, which she thought was not really his normal speaking voice. He said to her softly, "Keep still, and please, don't be afraid."

"I'm not," Felicity replied, just as softly. She wasn't afraid. In all honesty, she was more anxious to find out firsthand how good of a bowman he truly was. Her very life – or the normal use of her hands, at least – now depended on it.

Felicity nodded several times in response, biting her lower lip to keep it from quivering further. She did not want him to think that she was afraid of him or of what might happen if he faltered. Sensing even a tinge of panic in her might distract him and cause him to… No, she preferred not to venture anywhere near that thought at all. Instead, she looked at him with a resolute expression of trust on her face. Even if she could not really see his eyes beneath that hood, she could feel his gaze fixed on her, reciprocating the same resolute trust. The exchange made her heart flutter. Did he know the effect his gaze had on her? Watching him from afar had already been an exhilarating adventure for Felicity, but standing so close to him now was… indescribable.

Felicity had always tried to live her life circumspectly. She believed there was no other way for her to realize her dreams except to avoid complications, to remain in the fringes of society in order to skirt the perils in this troubled world. She and her mother Donna had always made it a point to live simply. Americans had an expression for this, and Felicity had lived by that motto of "playing it safe" ever since they had settled in Starling City. The only risk she had ever taken was pursuing the job at the _Herald_, for which she had applied under slightly false pretenses. However, ever since she first came to Barnum's show and stepped into the little world that the popular showman had created, she had developed a stronger motivation to explore the novel, the uncertain, the unlikely. Even more so when she had encountered the mysterious Green Arrow. There was just something about this mysterious person, something that dared her to start taking more calculated risks. She had begun to discover another side of her – a different side of her – which she had been reining in all her life. Perhaps she had already had it in her since she was born, and the current circumstances in her previously monotonous life had simply allowed it to emerge. In the past month or so, Felicity felt as if a door had been unlocked that would lead her to brand new challenges. Just like the one she was in at the moment.

Felicity angled her head so that she could see the archer's face better, but he stepped back and moved to turn away. She dropped her gaze in frustration as he walked away, to assume his position at the far end of the ring.

Clutching his bow tightly, the Green Arrow suddenly stopped. He turned towards her and asked, "Do you trust me?"

She gasped as she looked up at him. All she could see were his stubbly jaw and his lips, slightly parted as he waited for her response. Taking a deep breath, she answered, "I do." He nodded once to acknowledge her answer.

Felicity watched as the Green Arrow took his position more than thirty feet in front of her. He bowed his head and pulled back his hood as one of the stagehands approached him from behind. She squinted to get a clearer view of his face as he looked up again, but to her disappointment, she still could not make out his face from the distance, especially with the dim lighting from the torches and candles inside the theater. The areas around his eyes were smeared with what appeared to be dark-colored grease paint, which formed a mask-like shape on his face. The man sure knew how to conceal his identity, she thought.

After the stagehand blindfolded the archer, Felicity watched him raise his bow, pointing two sharp arrows straight at her. Her chest tightened as she felt her stomach churn. When the drum roll began, she shut her eyes. Holding her breath, she uttered a short prayer for her life and for the archer not to fail, and from then on, everything was a blur. It felt like hours as she waited for the arrows to fly towards her. The next thing she knew, her arms dropped to her sides. The crowd was on their feet, cheering and applauding wildly. Only then did she let out the breath she was holding.

Another short, stocky stagehand came to her to remove the ropes from her wrists, but she did not mind the midget at all. Her attention was focused on the hooded archer that had already removed his blindfold, pulled his hood back on, and was now walking straight towards her. She observed from his gait that he was just as relieved and pleased as she was that it was all over.

"You did it," she said to him proudly. She was not sure if he could hear her clearly because of the loud shouts and avid clapping of hands around them. But he must have read her lips right, for he replied with a shy smile and a courteous nod that made her eyes light up.

"Thank you for believing in me."

That was all he said to her, but she would never forget those words, or the calming way that he had said them. Clearly, the faith that she had put in him – to the extent that she'd trusted him with her life – had meant the world to the man that stood tall and proud before her.

The Green Arrow then turned to face the audience and bowed to acknowledge their praise and appreciation of his feat. Then, he walked towards the giant red curtains that separated the main theater from the backstage and disappeared behind them. If before Felicity had not been sure whether or not it was worth crossing the line with him to where the braver, bolder side of her could be unleashed, now she was.

* * *

Felicity was impressed. The cast and crew of Barnum's circus were phenomenal. They were an amazing group of people that had learned to use their physical challenges to their advantage and to transcend their various limitations, working hard in order to earn an honest living in the midst of a cruel, unforgiving society that prejudged them as lesser people. Having met them personally through Tommy Merlyn's backstage tour after the show, she realized that this odd group of misfits deserved more than what most people in Starling City gave them credit for. They had gone through tough times in life. They had been mocked and laughed at. They had been marginalized and denied certain freedoms. They deserved more than applause or mere awe and admiration. They needed more than a decent wage. They were social outcasts that deserved respect and acceptance.

Felicity was anxious to head home and begin writing. She wanted to write that the bearded woman's name was Josephine, and that her facial hair was just as real as the hair on every person's head. She wanted to write about Charles Stratton, better known in the circus as General Tom Thumb, and challenge physicians and biologists to look into "dwarfism" as a possible genetic explanation for why the man, who was just an inch taller than two feet, had stopped growing when he was just about two years of age. She wanted to write about the others, too; in fact, she was too excited and did not know where to begin.

She also wanted to write about the Green Arrow. She planned to showcase his archery skills and to relate them with the laws of physics so that readers can better appreciate the virtuosity behind an archer's prowess. She barely had anything to write about the man himself, nonetheless. Tommy Merlyn had wanted to introduce her to him, but the hooded archer for whom she had volunteered earlier was nowhere to be found. Members of the cast said that he had already left. Tommy had noticed her disappointment and had apologized for it. Without knowing about her job-related intentions, Tommy promised that he would try to arrange a personal interview with the Green Arrow at her most convenient time, telling her that he would send her word regarding the day and time. Felicity was not so sure if Tommy could deliver on his promise, but she was courteous enough not to press her new friend any further.

Tommy Merlyn had sent her home on his carriage, and she thanked him for his kindness. Her mother was very pleased that she had come home safely even if it was late at night. Donna had her supper warmed and had kept her company while she ate at their small dinner table, telling the incredible stories of the people whom she had met in the circus. Donna could hardly contain her emotions when she narrated her experience of volunteering for the Green Arrow's act. Her mother did not know whether she should scold her for her recklessness or admire her for her courage. Donna did ask if the archer was handsome, and Felicity candidly told her mother than she could neither confirm nor deny it, for the man obviously hid his identity from the public on purpose. Felicity was relieved that her mother had not asked any more questions after that. She then kissed her mother good night and retreated to her bedroom with a gas lamp in hand.

* * *

The small apartment they were renting was on the third floor of their building. It was certainly not fancy or garbed with unnecessary embellishments (although Felicity was sure that her mother would redecorate to her heart's content if only they could afford it), but she was grateful that her room had the better view of the city compared to her mother's. She had developed the habit of staring out her window before going to bed, gazing at the stars to wish for her dreams, and admiring the city's skyline under the moonlit sky.

She had already finished her nighttime rituals and was just about ready to burn the midnight oil writing her article for the paper. She was in the middle of buttoning up her white, long-sleeved, cotton nightgown when she heard a light tapping on her window. Slowly, she picked up the lamp and moved from the bathroom into her bedroom. As her eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room, she noticed a shadowy figure just outside the window closest to the fire escape. At first, she felt frightened that there was a stranger outside her window, yet when she recognized who the hooded figure was, she darted across the room and headed straight for the window. Putting down the gas lamp on a nearby table, she unlatched the window and pushed it open.

"Good evening," the hooded archer greeted her, still with his low, growly voice.

"Hello," she greeted back.

She noticed him avoiding looking directly at her, her chest area more specifically. She suddenly clutched the material of the front part of her nightgown when she realized that she had not finished doing all the buttons on her evening wear. "Oh, forgive me. Your… visit has come as a… surprise… a shock, really. I must confess, you have caught me unawares. Your stealth is impeccable."

The corners of his lips turn up, and Felicity noticed him holding back a smile. There was something vaguely familiar about that particular expression on the archer's face. It kind of reminded her of someone else's amusement of her peculiarly endearing trait, but she immediately dismissed the thought.

"Thank you."

"Uhm… I was brought up to never let strangers in. I do hope you understand. But then again it's quite chilly out there tonight. And I guess you aren't really a stranger to me anymore, seeing we did indirectly meet under potentially life-threatening circumstances, so…"

"It's fine. I'll be fine out here, Ms. Smoak," he told her, gently interrupting her ramble. "I won't stay long. I just came by to meet you. Mr. Merlyn… he said you wanted to meet me."

"Yes!" she replied enthusiastically. "I mean, who wouldn't want to get to know the person aiming really pointed things at you, right?"

He was smiling now, albeit shyly. "Like I said earlier, thank you for volunteering, for trusting me like that."

"You're welcome," she responded with a shy smile of her own. "Thank you for not missing," she told him with a wink that made him widen his smile.

"Could you, maybe, do without the hood? I'd really like to see the face of the person I'm talking to."

His smile fell. He neither nodded nor shook his head. It seemed he did not know how to respond to her kind request. He was obviously unwilling to humor her this time. When he did not move or speak for several seconds, Felicity decided not to oblige him further.

"I guess not, then. But… wait here," she told him.

She left him by the window, standing on the fire escape. When she returned a minute later, she handed him a blanket. "Here, use this. You don't want to catch a cold. Sneezing while shooting arrows at innocent volunteers may not be good for your career," she teased him. For a moment there, she thought she heard him chuckle a little bit. She then used a nearby stool to climb onto the window, and then she sat on the sill with her legs dangling out the open window. She had also brought a blanket, which she used to protect herself from the cold, evening autumn air.

The archer sat down on the fire escape. He spread the blanket over him and leaned back against the wall. That way, they were sitting almost side by side, except that Felicity was slightly higher than he was where he sat. The angle, however, allowed him to observe her profile, like a smooth silhouette against the backdrop of the moonlit, starry sky. Unbeknownst to her, the Green Arrow secretly admired the view.

They talked for an hour, mostly about Barnum's show and why he had joined the circus. She told him a little about herself, the orphanage she worked in, and a little about her mother.

The same thing happened again the weekend after, and the weekend after that. The Green Arrow was making a habit of climbing the fire escape outside her window and spending quality time on friendly nocturnal conversations with Felicity Smoak after his performance on Barnum's shows. She, in turn, was more than happy that she had found a new friend in this very intriguing, masked bowman.

* * *

_A/N: I've read many Arrow and Olicity fics where Oliver goes to see Felicity in her apartment via the fire escape. Some of these were very nicely written, others... I did not like so much. I thought this trope was perfect for this AU, and at this point in the story, Oliver isn't ready to reveal his true self to Felicity just yet._

_In the next chapter, Felicity encounters Oliver Queen as himself once again. How do you think that will turn out, considering how their last encounter had ended? ;-)_


	5. Chapter 5: Rewrite the Stars

**The Greatest Bowman**

**Chapter 5: Rewrite the Stars**

* * *

To say that Felicity was excited that she was about to enjoy an evening at the Starling City opera house was an understatement. She was beyond thrilled, if that was even possible. And why not? She was wearing an expensive, elegant evening gown made of the finest silk and lace used in designer couture in the east coast – the finest she'd ever seen, or worn. Best of all, she did not have to spend a dollar on it, or on the tickets for the evening's concert.

A few days ago, an anonymous donor had sent her the dress and the tickets for two to the opera house via courier. The frowning messenger that knocked on the door of the orphanage had denied any knowledge of who had sent her the package, which was neatly tied up in red and gold ribbons with a dainty bow on top. All that the big box had on it was a note addressed to her, which said: "Hoping you'll enjoy a little night of music." The note was unsigned.

Felicity had been inclined to think that Tommy Merlyn had been the kind soul that had sent her the gifts. After all, Tommy was one of P.T. Barnum's associates, and Mr. Barnum was, after all, the producer and promoter of the concert at the opera house. It made sense that Tommy would have access to complimentary tickets, just like the last time. Oh, but the dress! It must have cost him a fortune (which Felicity was sure he had a significant amount of). If Tommy was this generous to his friends, she could only begin to imagine the kinds of gifts he was capable of sending his fiancée, Ms. Lance. Tommy Merlyn was a good man, despite what his father and his father's acquaintances might say, and Felicity had made a mental note to thank him profusely for his kindness and generosity. Who was she not to accept such a gesture of magnanimity? This was all so mind-boggling to Felicity – pleasantly mind-boggling.

Felicity had gone home that day overjoyed. She had waited anxiously for her mother to arrive from Bowen manor that night. She couldn't wait to share the good news.

Just a couple of weeks ago, Felicity had seen the posters of Ms. Jenny Lind in Barnum's theater and learned that the amazing soprano, who had already made her mark in the music scene in Europe, was coming to America for a concert tour, which was made possible by Mr. Barnum's company. Back in England, Donna had already heard of the rising star that the Swedish-born soprano was fast becoming Western Europe. Donna was a fan of classical music, specifically the opera, but had only been to one concert – the one that Felicity's father had taken her to on their first date. It had been the most memorable concert in Donna's life, and Felicity knew that her mother had always longed for something like that to happen again.

Coming home from the orphanage that night, with the big dress box clutched under her arm, Felicity had been anxious to see her mother's reaction to the wonderful news she was bringing. At long last, her mother's dream of dressing up, going to a real theater, and watching a renowned concert artist like Ms. Lind was going to become a reality. Except, the excitement had been doused with cold water.

The date on the tickets fell on that same weekend when the Bowens, her mother's employers, were scheduled to go on a business trip to New York. They had asked Donna to stay at the manor while they were away in order to wait on and watch over their daughter in their absence, and Donna had already committed to it. Of course, Donna had felt utterly disappointed, shedding a tear or two, but she was not the kind of woman that failed to keep her word. So, she had decided to honor her commitment and forego the concert, which was why Felicity had asked her friend Barry to come and watch the concert with her. Barry had politely accepted the invitation, and Dr. Wells had been kind enough to lend him an appropriate ensemble to wear for the occasion.

* * *

In the opera house, the usher led Felicity and Barry to a private box, the one nearest the stage on the right side of the auditorium. The bald man with a British accent had briefly conversed with them after finding out that she hailed from the Midlands region, and then he offered them special lenses to use for viewing the performances on stage. Felicity wondered why this was necessary, considering they were seated so close to the stage that they could practically see the musicians in the orchestra pit, but the usher informed her that it was standard practice for them to offer such to "preferred guests" like them. Preferred guests – that made her feel extra special that night. Never had she felt this honored in public. She was definitely going to thank Tommy Merlyn for his generosity.

The concert commenced with a magnificent overture by the orchestra, and then Ms. Jenny Lind walked regally to center stage. When she began to sing an aria from a famous Mozart opera, everyone in the concert hall was enthralled by her crystal-clear, angelic voice. No wonder she had taken Europe by storm. The woman certainly had an enthralling, captivating voice.

Felicity lifted the optical contraption that the usher had given her and peered through it to observe Ms. Lind more closely. The clearer, bigger view through the lenses revealed that the soprano was not only a very good singer but also a very beautiful woman. Moreover, her face expressed the emotion and meaning of the words she sang. It impressed Felicity even more. She thought that her mother would have loved to be sitting beside her and enjoying all this instead of Barry.

With the lenses, Felicity scanned the view before her. She was curious to see if the other members of the audience thought and felt the same as she did about this spectacular performance. From the spot on the stage where Ms. Lind stood singing, she slowly panned to the left with her mini binocular until she focused on the people sitting in the private box directly across from theirs. She nearly dropped the binocular when she saw _his_ handsome face.

Oliver Queen. The silent yet sweet, bachelor she had met during the charity gala was right there, staring straight back at her from the other side of the theater. The look in his eyes that she had seen before she put down her binocular was one of recognition. Did the man have vision so clear as to have recognized her from that distance in such a darkened hall? No, she must have been imagining it. For why would he? It wasn't like he would be interested in her at all, especially not after that unfortunate (and humiliating) encounter they had had when his mother, the infamous Moira Queen, had interrupted their moment outside the ballroom. Felicity had really felt like there could be something more between them than just casual acquaintance on that first meeting; it was hurtful and disappointing that he had not deemed her worthy of his mother's respect, not even his mother's acquaintance.

Felicity did not dare use her binocular again until the end of the concert; neither did she glance back in the direction of the private box of the Queens. Barry asked her if she was alright, seeing that she was fidgeting several times in her seat. She assured him that she was fine even though she was not. Until the final song in Ms. Lind's repertoire, she still could not ignore the feeling that the gentleman across from her was stealing furtive glances at her from time to time. It made her feel uncomfortable. No matter how hard she tried to pay attention to the performances, she could not take her mind off one Oliver Queen.

After the concert, all the members of the audience congregated in the main hall for a reception that began with cocktails and hors d'oeuvres. Apparently, this was part of the social custom of the rich and famous when attending such formal events. Felicity and Barry tried their best to blend in, minding their manners and courteously carrying on friendly conversations with some of the elite music enthusiasts in Starling City. They were in the middle of a jovial chat with a friend of Dr. Wells when Tommy Merlyn approached them.

"Good evening, Ms. Smoak, Mr. Allen, Mr. Dennis," Tommy greeted. "It's wonderful to see you here tonight."

"Hello, Mr. Merlyn, and good evening," Felicity greeted back with a friendly smile.

"How many times do I have to remind you to please call me Tommy? Mr. Merlyn makes me feel like I'm as old as my father," Tommy said to her with quite the unease.

Felicity nodded and said, "Well, if you insist, then I shall call you Tommy then." She turned to Barry and then to the gentleman they were conversing with and said, "If you must know, gentlemen, Tommy Merlyn here is the kind-hearted man who made it possible for us to attend this evening's fine performance." Turning to Tommy, she added, "Thank you so much for your generosity. My mother and I truly appreciate it. Unfortunately, she could not come due to a prior commitment. She sends her regrets. Fortunately, Mr. Allen here was kind enough to accompany me tonight."

Tommy's forehead crinkled in confusion. "I am deeply touched by your expression of gratitude, Felicity. But I am afraid that I do not deserve the appreciation you afford me. I may have sent you the complimentary ticket to Barnum's show previously, but the honor of sending you the tickets for tonight's concert belongs to someone else."

Felicity was stunned. "Oh… In that case, I beg your pardon, sir. I assumed wrongly. Though, I wish I could know who I am supposed to thank for this wonderful opportunity of a lifetime. All this extravagance…" She paused to sigh. "Mr. Allen and I… we rarely get the chance to be part of something so grand."

Tommy smiled at her and said, "Well, there is a way for you to find out, if you really intend to express your gratitude to your sponsor."

"Indeed?" she asked enthusiastically.

"Yes," Tommy answered. "Do you mind if I ask where you were seated?"

"The private box on the right side of the hall," she replied, "the one nearest the stage, atop the orchestra pit."

The expression on Tommy's face transformed from cordial to amused, as his mouth widened to a grin. "Well, well… It seems we have an answer as to your mysterious sponsor then. The private box you speak of belongs to the Deardens."

"The Deardens?" Felicity and Barry ask simultaneously.

"Yes, the Deardens are Oliver's mother's side of the family," Tommy explained briefly, but on a very triumphal note.

Somehow Felicity felt that her new friend was privy to something more than he was telling her. But one thing she figured out for sure was that Oliver Queen must have been the one who had sent her the gorgeous dress that she now wore, as well as the tickets to Ms. Lind's concert. She still, however, could not believe it. Why would he send her those gifts after what had happened during their first meeting? Was he trying to make amends? Why was he attempting to rekindle a friendship when it had been quite clear that he had wanted nothing to do with her as far as his family was concerned? This was all very confusing for her.

The gentleman who had previously been quiet during their dialogue spoke up. "I know the Deardens personally, if I may say so. They are a well-respected family. The great grandparents of Moira Dearden Queen were immigrants from England and among the pioneers of Starling City, and so were the great, great grandparents of Robert, who is also a very good friend of mine." The old gentleman smiled as he excused himself from their company.

Sensing her lingering skepticism, Tommy mentioned, "If you prefer to corroborate the information I have just shared, you could go and inquire from the box office as to who had purchased the tickets and reserved the seats for you." His eyebrows were raised as he held back a mild chuckle.

"Would you like me to come with you?" Barry asked her.

"No, no, it's fine," Felicity answered. "If you, gentlemen, don't mind, I'm just going to step outside for a while and get some air."

"Be our guest," Tommy said, bowing mildly in an attempt to break the awkward tension in the air.

* * *

Felicity took leave and retreated to the spacious mezzanine of the opera house. All the guests were still mingling in the reception area, so she had the place all to herself. She leaned forward against the marble top of the balcony overlooking the grand lobby of the Graeco-Roman-styled building down below. She was deep in thought, wondering what Oliver's intentions were for the kind gesture he had shown, even more so, whether or not she should give him the benefit of the doubt that those intentions were sincere. He could not blame her for doubting him, could he? After all, he had been the one who had pulled away that night, and all because his stern-looking mother had caught him holding hands with a young woman who didn't quite measure up to high society's expectations.

"Best be careful there. It's a long way down," a pleasantly toned male voice suddenly ripped through the silence of her solitude.

Startled, she turned too quickly and lost her footing, wobbling backwards over the hip-high marble top. She would have toppled over to her own demise if the gentleman that had just warned her from danger had not been swift enough to reach her in time.

"Oliver…" she gasped, as he held both her arms to steady her.

He smiled down at her. "Easy," he said. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

He was looking at her like she were the moon and the stars, and she could hardly keep her composure under his intense gaze. Something in his eyes told her that he wanted to tell her so much more than just how sorry he was for scaring her that way. He had not let go of her yet either, but she did not mind, for she was still much too unnerved. His hands were warm, and his touch on her bare skin soothed her.

After a while, when her heartbeat was more stable and the blush on her face began to fade, she politely accepted his apology and thanked him for his gesture. She then held his gaze this time, and asked, "Is that all you wanted to say, Oliver?"

He looked down forlornly and swallowed hard, and then when he met her eyes once more, he said, "Felicity, I must also beg your forgiveness for what happened last time."

"Which was?"

"Which was me letting go of your hands when my mother found us. You must think… You see when she found us in the patio… She actually interrupted what was supposed to be an attempt on my part to… to ask you to come to dinner with me."

Felicity gasped at the revelation. He had wanted to see her again but did not get to tell her.

Oliver continued, "I do not want you to get the wrong impression. I was not ashamed to have been seen with you, by my mother no less. It's just… That night when we had our walk, I really enjoyed our conversation. I felt free… like I hadn't felt in a very long time. I truly adored your company. You made feel like I could be myself, without any pretense. That was… That was the very first time I opened up myself to anyone since I came back from the island. I did not let go because I was ashamed of you. I let go because my mother's sudden presence suddenly reminded me that I was being vulnerable. It's… it's something I'm not used to… that of being caught with my guard down."

"Like now?" she asked softly, a hint of a smile blossoming on her lips. The answers to the questions she had been grappling with for several weeks were simple. Now she knew. She had misjudged him all along.

He smiled shyly, not letting his pearly whites show. Nodding, he replied, "Yes, a lot like now."

"Apology accepted," Felicity told him with a small smile. "Thank you for being honest."

"Felicity, I hope that you will give me another chance to prove that my intentions for you are sincere. Please know that I would never consciously hurt you by making you feel the same way I did before. Perhaps, we could start all over again and rewrite the story of how we met?"

"Oliver, is that your way of asking me to dinner?" she asked him, pleasantly amused.

"I guess it is," he replied, chuckling as well. "Though, I would like to formally meet your mother and ask permission to pursue a courtship, if that is acceptable to you."

Felicity grinned, and her eyes sparkled with joy. With a mischievous look, she replied, "I believe I reserve the right to consider it…" A frown began to form on Oliver's face. It was a good thing she quickly added, "…_if_ you will admit that you were the one who sent me this gorgeous dress and the tickets to tonight's concert."

"Guilty as charged," Oliver said, his hand clutched to his chest.

"For your generosity and thoughtfulness, I thank you, from the bottom of my heart," she said. "And thank you for telling the truth. Allow me to express my gratitude by accepting your dinner invitation." Oliver grinned widely at that. She could tell from the look on his face that he was ecstatic about it.

Felicity did appreciate his truthfulness. She was not too keen on dishonesty, much less keeping secrets (except her own – the one about being a feature writer for the _Herald_ under a man's pen name). Truth be told, if Oliver had denied it, she would have had no qualms denying his request for courtship. In all fairness, the man had really gone out of his way to apologize for his unkind behavior at the charity gala. As far as Felicity was concerned, all was forgiven.

They sauntered back to the reception, her arm linked with his on a leisurely gait. They conversed to their hearts' content, even engaging in some playful banter.

"So, are you going to tell me why you came with Barry tonight?" Oliver asked.

"No," Felicity answered. "Why do you want to know? Are you jealous, Mr. Queen?"

"Should I be?"

"You have absolutely no right to be jealous!" she protested, tapping him lightly on his upper arm. "We, sir, are not a couple."

"Not yet…" He winked at her, and she laughed a little, shaking her head in amusement.

Then she asked, "I have a couple of questions, though. How did you know that my mother and I would be interested in coming to the opera house? I do not recall us discussing my mother and our musical preferences that night at the gala."

"Those, my dear Felicity, are questions for another day," he answered, shrewdly evading her inquiry. "Right now-"

Once again, they were rudely interrupted by Moira Queen as they entered the reception hall. "Right now, your father and I need you to join us at the banquet, Oliver," said the Queen matriarch, glancing at Felicity with a pretentious, forced smile.

"Mother!" Oliver greeted Moira with a gleam in his eyes. "I would like you to meet my good friend, Felicity Smoak. She is a teacher at the orphanage, and she too loves the music of the masters."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Smoak," said Moira, feigning pleasantness.

"The pleasure is all mine, madam," Felicity responded courteously, not letting go of Oliver's arm.

"We shall be joining you shortly, Mother. In the meantime, I shall request the head server to add two table settings at our table. I believe there is room since Thea and Laurel were unable to come. I would very much like for Ms. Smoak and her companion, Mr. Allen, to join us for the banquet."

"Very well, do not take too long," Moira replied and walked away.

The rest of the evening proceeded cordially. Conversations at their table had been fairly interesting, especially when Robert Queen had broached the subject of P.T. Barnum's controversial shows. Felicity simply listened to the men's opinions, including Barry's. What amazed her was hearing Oliver's own views on the matter, even mentioning how much he appreciated the scientific facts and insights of Noah Kuttler, whose reviews published in the _Herald_ for the past few Sundays had been casting a completely positive light on Barnum's enterprise in the midst of the skepticism of many critics. Felicity's heart soared upon hearing Oliver's sentiments about her writing. If only she could tell him that she was actually the woman behind the man he praised.

Oliver entrusted Felicity in Barry's care as they parted ways, but not without first making sure that their plans for dinner in the very near future were clearly laid out.

* * *

The smashing success of Jenny Lind's concert was all over the front page of the _Herald_ the next day. P.T. Barnum and his associates, including Tommy Merlyn, were raving about their city-wide triumph. Felicity herself could not stop telling her mother over breakfast about how fantastic Ms. Lind was, and of course, how she found out about who had given her the dress and the concert tickets.

Oliver, on the other hand could not stop telling his best friend over breakfast about how he and Felicity had mended their budding relationship. He made Tommy promise never to tell Felicity how, in particular, he had gotten the idea of sending her tickets to the concert as a peace offering. Tommy was well aware that he had discovered about her mother's love of music during his nighttime talks with her as the Green Arrow. Tommy warned him that Felicity might not like the fact that he kept secrets from her, especially since he was now inclined to pursue a serious relationship with her; hence, Oliver, in turn, promised his friend that he would tell her the truth when the right time came along.

That evening, after another of Barnum's shows, the Green Arrow climbed the fire escape once more and listened to Felicity's stories of the opera house, of Oliver Queen's special gifts and intentions of courtship.

Felicity wondered why her hooded friend did not show any signs of unease or jealousy, for she had thought that if circumstances were different, and he did not have to keep his identity a secret even from her, she might have fallen in love with him first.

* * *

_A/N: I think "Rewrite the Stars" still worked for the story in this chapter even without the acrobatics while singing a romantic duet. What did you think of this one? The next chapter will be a reprise of "A Million Dreams," short but sweet._


	6. Chapter 6: A Million Dreams (Reprise)

**The Greatest Bowman**

**Chapter 6: A Million Dreams (Reprise)**

* * *

**_A/N: I am back! I apologize for that awfully and significantly long delay in posting another chapter. My family took a much-needed month-long vacay, and then I had to adjust back to domesticity and to loads of responsibilities waiting for me when I went back to work. It's been crazy! I tried to write bits and pieces for both my WIPs during the vacay and when I got back, but schedules were hectic and all I could squeeze in to keep me sane from the daily grind was to read fics here and there. But here's a new chapter for you! I thought of giving a summary of the past five chapters to refresh your memory. After all, two months is a long time since the last post._**

**_Summary: The Green Arrow and Felicity bond over a heart-to-heart talk._**

* * *

_Previously on "The Greatest Bowman"..._

_Felicity Smoak is an immigrant in America during the time when P.T. Barnum's circus was rising in popularity in Starling City. As a brilliant young lady with dreams of success, she works as a teacher in an orphanage in Starling City to save for a college education. She also secretly writes for the Sunday edition of the Herald under a masculine pseudonym to make more money, and her friend Barry and employer Dr. Wells are the only ones who know about it. Fascinated by Barnum's shows and hired talents, she is captivated by the mysterious hooded archer who goes by the title 'The Green Arrow,' who in turn, is just as captivated by her endearing charm. Their friendship grows with his nighttime visits during weekends via the fire escape outside her bedroom window. _

_During this time, in a charity gala, Felicity also meets Oliver Queen, one of the wealthiest eligible bachelors in the city, also known for having been stranded in an island for three years after a boating accident. Their acquaintance is strained at first due to a misunderstanding, but they are able to reconcile and rekindle their interest in each other at the opera house after watching the performance of Swedish soprano, Ms. Jenny Lind. Oliver asks permission from her mother to pursue a formal courtship and takes her on a romantic dinner date. The only problem is, Felicity does not know that Oliver and the Green Arrow are one and the same person. Nobody but his best friend Tommy Merlyn does. Will the secrets they both keep get in the way of their growing relationship?_

* * *

He loved staring at her in the moonlight. Each and every time. He was glad she usually did not notice him gazing at her as if nothing else existed in his world, what with the hood over his head shielding his eyes from her line of sight.

During his first nighttime visits in the past few months, he had noticed her subtly trying to have a better look at his face while they talked, and he would drop his gaze each time to avoid her searching eyes. She had sensed his palpable unease, and because she had come to regard him deeply as a good friend, she had eventually given up on her subtle quest of discovering his identity, opting rather to lose herself in her animated storytelling, which almost always had him under her captivating spell. He had memorized the way that the tone of her voice rose and fell, the way she laughed at her own attempts at humor, the way her hands and fingers gestured whilst she spoke, the way her wavy blonde tresses flipped or fell over her shoulder as she talked. He had learned to love every part of these. Of _her_.

This time, however, he adored her even more because she was talking so very fondly about _him_ – that is, the other side of him that was Oliver Queen, the one that he still hadn't revealed to her, just as he had promised his best friend Tommy that he would.

That night, after another one of Mr. Barnum's entertaining shows, the emerald archer had once again climbed the fire escape that led to one of her bedroom windows and Felicity was telling him about how "wonderfully romantic" her evening with Oliver had been the night prior. She recounted how the "handsomest eligible bachelor of Starling" had invited her to dine in one of the most prestigious restaurants in the city, how he had fetched her with a charming carriage and had given her a dozen red roses as she introduced him to her gleeful mother, and how gentlemanly her suitor had been all throughout dinner. He could not really see very clearly from underneath his archer's hood in the dimness of night to be sure, but because of how her voice heightened and softened, he was almost certain that she blushed while telling about how Oliver had bidden her 'good night' after kissing the back of her lace-gloved hand. Of course, she did not have to narrate everything that had transpired that night for him to appreciate the story, for he had already committed to memory every single detail of the time spent with her, basking in every moment as though he had a foretaste of heaven on earth in her company.

It took every ounce of self-control for him to rein in his feelings and restrain himself from responding to her physically. She had, after all, thought him handsome and had said so herself, unaware that the person she admired was the same one she was confessing her growing feelings for Oliver Queen to. Sitting on her window sill, Felicity was just a few inches away from his touch. All he had to do was reach out and up from where he sat on the fire escape, cup the side of her face, and caress her soft skin with the calloused pad of his thumb – which was exactly what he wanted to do at the moment. Instead, he restrained himself by gripping his bow tighter with the hand that was nearer her. He did not dare touch her affectionately, not when he and she were merely good friends, and especially not when he still could not bring himself to be completely honest with her about who he truly was. If only it were that simple.

"What do you think?" Felicity asked him a second time. He had been much too enamored by her charm and overwhelmed by her candid storytelling and honest admission of burgeoning romantic feelings for her distinguished suitor to hear that she had actually asked him a question. She tapped his shoulder lightly to make sure that she had his undivided attention.

"Hmm?" he responded as her touch broke him out of his love-struck daze.

"I asked for your humble opinion, sir," she told him, mildly glaring as she did.

"Forgive me," he apologized. "My mind was…"

"…on something else," she finished for him, sighing as she did.

In his modulated voice, he softly asked, "Would you mind asking again?"

"Well, alright," she replied with a tinge of frustration, "since you apologized and asked so nicely." She shifted on the sill to face him and said, "I asked if you think that a wealthy and well-bred gentleman like Mr. Queen would really be interested in someone like me. I mean, after everything I've told you, would you say that his intentions are truly sincere?"

He was humbled that she would even consider asking him such a question, awed that she trusted him enough at this stage in their friendship to solicit his advice on such a personal matter. If she only knew. If not for the secrets he had to keep, he would have declared his affection for her and assured her of his earnest intentions for her right then and there. But how could he answer such a question? How should he? And who would it be that should respond, the Green Arrow or Oliver Queen? It took him a while to compose himself and speak, and he was relieved that she seemed to be patiently waiting for him to reply.

Still unable to find the proper words to provide the counsel she asked for, he decided to answer her with another question. "What does your brilliant mind tell you?"

She replied instantly, "That he is… all of this is too good to be true."

"And your heart?"

Felicity took a deep breath. She gazed up at the starry night sky and exhaled. "My heart is telling me that I should give him a chance… and that _I _deserve this chance as well."

"You do," he told her tenderly, causing her to look at him and smile. "You are a wonderful person, Felicity. You deserve to be happy."

"Thank you," she said. "You know, ever since I was little, I've always dreamed of making a difference in this world. My mother always said that heaven has gifted me with an intellect that most men, who have better chances at success and significance in our society, can only envy. She keeps reminding me that I should never let anything hinder me from realizing that potential. Coming to America has only fueled that desire to find my life's purpose and fulfill it. Dr. Wells thinks that I would do very well in the university, that I could become an accomplished educator someday, that I can make a difference in this world. That is why I am doing everything I can to save what little I make from…" She cleared her throat in order to bide time to choose her words carefully. "…from the orphanage, so that I could go back to school."

She paused, unsure of how to proceed. But because she trusted her green-hooded friend quite enough, she bravely pressed on. Looking up once again, she asked him, "Do you… do you think that falling in love will get in the way of my dreams? I've never really felt this way about someone before. I haven't really considered being in a romantic relationship before, let alone being in one with such a prominent gentleman like Mr. Queen. Never in my wildest dreams. I mean, he and I do not even share the same social standing." She sighed. "How is it that you, Americans, say it? I am way out of _his_ league?"

Since he had met Felicity Smoak, he had rarely disagreed with her because he regarded her as extremely intelligent, logical, perceptive, and highly opinionated. But in this instance, he couldn't disagree with her more. To him, _he_ was the one who was way out of _her_ league. Felicity was more honorable and more admirable than most people who belonged to the upper crust of society that his family usually mingled with. She worked hard to live a decent life. She cared about people, especially those whose lot in life was less than advantageous or fortunate. She was kind and lovely in a million different ways. How could she think that she did not deserve the chance to be with someone whom she thought was significantly nobler than her? She could not be more mistaken.

"I disagree," he said softly but sternly.

"I beg your pardon?" She was not offended, just confused.

"It is Queen that is way out of _your_ league. You are _so_ much better than him, Felicity, or anyone like him," he answered. His voice was slightly higher than the usually low, modulated voice he uses with her as the Green Arrow. He was trying to make her understand. But when he noticed that his vocal disguise was faltering, he stopped speaking and swallowed hard.

"Somehow, I doubt that," she remarked, a tad bit sadly.

"Do not doubt it for a second," he rebuked her gently, this time with his modulated voice once again. "You underestimate yourself, Felicity. You are a very special person, more special than you realize. Remember the night you volunteered for my act? You believed in me when no one else did. And I believe in _you_. I believe that you will succeed in anything you put your heart and mind into."

"Including love?" she asked, barely a whisper.

Definitely. He most definitely thought so. Yet, realizing that he had already spoken more words than usual and was now at the brink of disclosing more of his feelings for her than he intended, he settled for a laconic yet sincere answer. "Of course," he said with a decisive nod of his head.

"Thank you," Felicity acknowledged, reaching out to him and gently squeezing his shoulder.

Silence engulfed them for a few minutes. They simply sat there, enjoying the fresh, chilly evening air. Winter was fast approaching. It was cold outside where they sat in her fire escape, but the woolen blankets were sufficient to keep them warm. Holding each other's hand helped, too.

After a while, Felicity shifted once again. Oliver sensed that she had something else on her mind. He waited for her to verbalize whatever it was that had her fidgeting uncomfortably. He wondered what it was that bothered her so.

At her third attempt to speak, she finally succeeded in finding the words. "Suppose Oliver persists in our courtship and I decide to give us a chance at a committed relationship, which might eventually lead to marriage. Does he need to know _everything_ about me? Sooner or later? I mean, everybody keeps secrets, right? It's just… It's very disconcerting that I cannot be completely honest with him about myself. Not yet, at least."

He was taken aback by her words. So Felicity had secrets, too, he thought. She was expecting some form of counsel from him, judging by the expectancy in her voice and the way she stared at him with a frown on her face. Yet how could he provide much-needed perspective when he himself struggled with the same thing? What right or credibility did he possess to speak on the matter of secrets, when he himself was living a lie that only his best friend knew about?

"I…" he began to speak, groping for words. "I think… I think everybody keeps secrets for a reason. I am sure that you have a perfectly valid reason for yours. If Oliver Queen truly cares about you, he would give you time. And when you are ready to be honest with him, he would understand."

"Oh, I truly hope so," Felicity mutters under her breath, but he could hear her loud and clear. "My own mother does not even know. I fear her heart might fail her if she finds out that her precious baby girl writes a column for the Sunday paper under a fake name. A man's name. My father's name. But what could I do? They most likely will not publish anything that I write – no matter how good it is – if they knew that I am a woman. Dr. Wells certainly thinks so, and Barry agrees. If the _Herald_ finds out the truth…" She paused, anxiety clearly setting in. "They would surely let me go. It might even be the end of my career as a writer. You know how difficult it is to find well-compensated work in this city without higher education, especially for women. I might never be able to realize my dream of studying and becoming a full-fledged teacher."

Felicity was obviously unburdening herself. To him, no less. He did not know if he should consider that a privilege or a reward to be ecstatic about, or if he should be wary of sharing in her inner struggles with truth and pretenses. He wasn't a hypocrite, though, and he certainly was not about to judge her. He did not have the effrontery to condemn since he had secrets of his own that he was unwilling to divulge as of yet. Not even to her. He was not ready.

The burden of his secrets weighed down on him like never before. If she felt conflicted, he felt twice as much. How could he help her escape her misery if he himself was trapped in a predicament of his own doing? It should comfort him – finding out that Felicity kept secrets, too. But it does not make him feel any better.

Perhaps she would understand when the time came that he told her the truth about his identity, since she could identify with his struggle, but there was no guarantee. He was not so sure about how she would react if she finds out about his past. He might lose her for good if she found out how those three years on that God-forsaken island had changed him. Damaged him. Would she still find him handsome if she saw his scars? Would she deem him worthy of her love if she knew how he had almost lost his soul on Lian Yu? The mere prospect of her rejecting him made his stomach turn and his chest constrict.

Oliver did not know what to say. Silence stretched for minutes that felt like hours. He was relieved when Felicity finally gave up waiting and said, "I apologize if I have upset you. I'll understand if you would think of me differently from now on. I assure you, I did not plan on burdening you with my woes. You've been nothing but kind."

"You have nothing to apologize for," he replied. "I do not regard you differently. Your confession changes nothing between us. If at all, it has only heightened my esteem of you. It takes great courage, what you are doing. You are a brilliant young woman trying your hardest to prove your worth in a society that expects less of women and measures them against a different standard. You are remarkable, Felicity."

Felicity gasped in astonishment. Shivering, not due to the cold breeze but due to the pleasantly unexpected compliment, she clutched the blanket wrapped around her closer to her chest and told him, "Thank you for remarking on it." She smiled at him, angling her head so that she could see whether or not he was also smiling. He was.

"I'm sure you have your secrets, too. If you didn't, you wouldn't be wearing that hood," she said to him. "Just so you know, whatever they are, if you'll trust me enough like I trust you now, your secrets will always be safe with me."

His smile widened at her reassuring words. Laying his leather-gloved hand on her knee, he told her, "I will keep that in mind."

* * *

_**A/N: Just four more chapters left. I hope you liked this chapter, and that you are still interested in this story. If you are, please do let me know. It will surely help me get back into the writing rhythm again. :-) I will be updating my other WIP "In the Key of Love." I hope to finish these fics before Season 8 starts.**_


	7. Chapter 7: This is Me

**The Greatest Bowman**

**Chapter 7: This is Me**

* * *

_**Summary: Felicity struggles with people's expectations. Her world begins to cave in, and Oliver worries.**_

* * *

The orphanage had become quite crowded in the past month after a small group of children were brought in from Bloomfield after a train accident up north had orphaned them tragically. Three little girls and a nine-year-old boy had been set up in the room that used to be Dr. Wells' office on the first floor, so the man had no choice but to move to a makeshift cubicle where his desk, files, and supplies were transferred.

For the first time since she had been employed as a teacher in the orphanage, Felicity was thankful that she had to climb four flights of stairs before she reached the attic. She took her time, even stopping at every landing to take a deep breath, because she was anxious. She was anxious that Dr. Wells had asked to speak to her before she headed home. His voice had been somber, and the serious expression on his face was a telltale sign that something troublesome, or unpleasant at the very least, was to be expected. When at last she reached the attic and drew near her employer's cubicle, she greeted him, "Good afternoon, Dr. Wells. You wanted to speak with me?"

"Yes, yes, my dear," Dr. Wells replied. "Come and sit."

Felicity was relieved that there was an empty chair beside his desk. She was not sure she could take the disagreeable news he was about to share standing up. She moved to take the seat.

Dr. Wells brought out a letter from his desk drawer and handed it to her. "I received this letter from the mail today. It's from the _Herald_." He motioned for her to read it, and she did so.

Halfway into the brief, handwritten correspondence bearing the newspaper editor's signature at the bottom, Felicity gasped sharply. "They want Noah Kuttler to make his identity known, or else..."

"…the owners of the paper will not renew your contract," Dr. Wells finished for her.

The letter indicated that the owners of the paper had been worried for quite some time already that Kuttler's science-oriented column had been dwelling on controversial topics connected to P.T. Barnum's circus and strange circus performers. The readers of the _Herald _were divided, and the management wanted to speak with Kuttler in person about toning down the commentaries and lessening the compliments that seemed to stir up arguments and disagreements among the erudite members of society in Star City, and to convince the writer to shift to other topics of interest that did not spark this much dispute. Dr. Wells himself did not think it likely that there were just as many readers of Kuttler's column that disliked what Felicity had been writing for several weeks as those that appreciated her wit and the information she shared. Yet, he did attribute the pressure that the editor was putting on her to the personal sentiments of the owners of the Herald, which he knew to be close friends with her rival columnist and known Barnum critic, Mr. James Bennett.

It saddened and frustrated Felicity immensely how many learned people were steeped in bigotry despite the changes in the times. If they wanted to stay groping in the dark and wallowing in ignorance, narrow-mindedness, and prejudice, they were better off doing those themselves. Why did they have to require the rest of the public to grope and wallow with them? She also resented the pressure that the people running the newspaper were exerting on Dr. Wells and on her. It was not as if the paper was losing subscribers; on the contrary, the Sunday edition of the Herald had been yielding more revenue since her first column was published. If a columnist preferred his or her privacy over public recognition, they ought to respect it.

"What are we going to do?" Felicity asked Dr. Wells fretfully. "If I come out and tell them the truth about myself, I will surely come to ruin!"

"Calm down, Felicity," said Dr. Wells. "If we stay calm and composed, we will be in a much better position to find a solution to this situation. I can stall… wait for them to contact me personally. Perhaps by then we will have thought of something. I only wanted you to be aware of this development so that you, too, can get that brilliant mind of yours to think of a solution."

"Very well," she responded with a sigh. "If you think of something before I do, please do let me know. Thank you for telling me, Dr. Wells. I know that you are risking your reputation for my sake. I just wish you will not get into too much trouble on account of me."

"Oh Felicity, you could never be trouble," her kind mentor told her. "This world needs more women like you. Everything will be alright."

Felicity left the cubicle only a tad bit relieved. She could not help but be anxious about what will happen, so much so that Barry noticed this as he walked her home that day. He had offered some practical advice similar to what Dr. Wells had already given, and he promised to help think of a solution to her dilemma. He even proposed posing as Noah Kuttler to save her from having to reveal her true identity as a female columnist, but Felicity immediately dismissed this, telling him that she was not going to resort to even more deception just to save her skin.

That night, Felicity spent most of the night tossing and turning, wondering and worrying about the possibility of her writing career ending so early, and of her dream of going to the teachers' college never becoming reality.

* * *

Two days later, Felicity's circumstances became even more disheartening and upsetting. Oliver Queen brought her as his date to an early Christmas banquet at Queen Manor. The event was hosted by his family for the employees of their company. At first she had told him that she really did not celebrate Christmas, being Jewish, but upon his polite (and very charming) request, she had obliged, thinking that there was always a first time for everything. Her mother Donna had not objected to her going and had even encouraged her to accept Oliver's gracious invitation. However, no matter how hard she tried to win the Queen matriarch's graces, Moira Queen consistently gave her the cold shoulder the entire evening. Felicity was beyond frustrated. She was hurt, and no amount of reassurance from Oliver that she mattered to him could ease the pangs of rejection that she felt.

Felicity wondered why Oliver's sincere words and calming touch were not enough to soothe her aching heart. She sensed that her anger went deeper than that which resulted from mere spurning by Oliver's mother. She thought that perhaps it was because what happened during dinner simply compounded what she had already been struggling with in the past few days. Oliver's mother was not the only one incapable of accepting her for who she was; there were plenty of other people in Star City (and the world) that still thought less of people like her, no matter how hard they tried to show what they were capable of. The events in the past days were demeaning, making her question her lot in life and her place in society like never before.

Why was it so hard for people to recognize her for who she was? Besides her mother, Dr. Wells, Barry, and Oliver, only one other person made her feel significant. In fact, no one made her feel distinctly valued and special the way her hooded archer-friend did, which was why Felicity found herself opening up to the Green Arrow yet again that weekend.

"Why can't people see me as me? Why do I have to hide behind my estranged father's shadow just so that my ideas can be accepted?" she ranted in frustration. Her hooded friend was quiet, but she knew that he was listening to her intently. "I mean, this is who I am! Felicity Smoak." She let out a bitter laugh, realizing the ironic implication of what she just said. "And yet I have to use a man's name just to have my articles published," she added with sarcasm.

"You have a beautiful name because you have a beautiful heart. You should use it. For the paper," he told her.

"And what? Lose my job?"

Felicity was clearly upset. He regretted the remark, which he had meant to be a compliment. He hoped that her anger was not directed towards him because of it, yet he dared to push on with every intention of making her see that _he_ was unlike everybody else whom she described as prejudiced and discriminatory. She needed to know that he saw her and valued her for who she truly was, and he was going to tell her exactly that until she is completely persuaded of it – if not as Oliver Queen, then as the Green Arrow.

"Tell them who you are," he suggested confidently. "If they let you go, then it is they who are not worthy of you. Not the other way around."

Felicity should have been encouraged and motivated by his words as he had hoped – flattered, at the very least. But she became even more upset, responding sternly without much thought. "You are one to speak. Why would I take the advice of someone who hides his true self under a hood?"

Immediately, a wave of guilt washed over her, making her blood run cold. She regretted every single word that she had just used to lash out at him on impulse. "I'm sorry," she uttered, this time sincerely, in a softer tone of voice. "I… I didn't mean what I said." She worried for a moment when he did not respond, sitting in silence beside her with his head hung low. That she had hurt his feelings was palpable indeed.

After a minute or two, the Green Arrow spoke, his voice laced with shame. "You are right. I am in no position to offer you such advice." He moved to stand, and Felicity was afraid that he was going to leave because she had offended him with judgmental words and ill-temperedness.

"No, wait! Please…," she said, launching herself towards him from the windowsill and grasping his wrist. Warmth spread all over her at the contact. He did not flinch at her touch; if at all, the tension in his body actually dissipated. "Please don't go. I take back what I said. You were only trying to help. I apologize for being so harsh. I was just… very upset. But not at you, really. I'm just…"

"I understand," he said. His voice was low and gruff, yet she understood him clearly.

She observed him slowly turn to fix his gaze on her hand on his wrist. She then released her grip on his wrist when she was sure he was not about to leave her alone on the fire escape. She led him back to his spot near her window, and then she sat down beside him this time, instead of on her usual place on the windowsill.

They talked for another hour before they said good night and parted once more. The Green Arrow chose to become vulnerable, opening up to his dear friend about some of the choices he had regretted making in the past, which still haunted him, including having killed a man in self-defense. He told his story very tactfully, taking extra care to leave out details of the island that he had been stranded on for three years where those horrific experiences had taken place. He confessed that he still struggled with terrible nightmares from time to time as a result of his traumatic experiences. He also shared with her about the lingering dilemma of living two lives – something that she could somehow identify with.

Felicity felt privileged that he chose to become vulnerable with her. She could tell that he really needed someone to talk to who would not judge him prematurely and unfairly for the things he had done that filled him with guilt and for the things he had gone through that filled him with shame. She respected the fact that he still chose not to reveal his identity to her. At the moment, it was not as important to her as him being released from the prison of guilt and shame. As far as she was concerned, the mere act of telling her his deepest, darkest secrets was already a milestone, not just for him, but for their friendship. She felt as though they had bonded more profoundly that night more than any other night previously.

"It must be hard… letting it all out of your chest," Felicity commented when he was done sharing.

"It is. You are the first person I've told," he admitted humbly.

The admission caught her by surprise. He had never told anyone, and he had been back home for more than a year already. This poor man had kept all his woes locked up inside him. It saddened her, but it also elated her that he trusted her enough with his secrets.

"Oh… Thank you for trusting me. It means a lot," she said, reaching out to place her hand on his between them. He looked at their hands, and then he turned his own, palm up, inviting her to intertwine her fingers with his. She did, and fondly so.

Then he said, "_You_ mean a lot, Felicity Smoak, at least to me." His words grip her, causing her heart to flutter and her cheeks to blush.

"That… is good enough for me," she responded gratefully. She did not need anybody else's affirmation. She smiled at him and added, "You matter to me too, you know, even though I still don't know your name. I hope that one day you'll get to stop living two lives and just be… happy."

That night, Oliver slept soundly, perhaps for the first time in years. Baring his soul to the woman he had learned to love had been cathartic. He knew it was just a matter of time before he found the courage to tell her who he really was. Felicity, on the other hand, had a hard time falling asleep. Confusion dawned upon her as to which wonderful man had truly won her heart – the romantic suitor that is Oliver Queen, or the bosom friend that the Green Arrow had become.

* * *

It was Sunday the next day. Felicity was supposed to watch another of P.T. Barnum's shows like she promised the Green Arrow the night before. But she was not able to leave early to buy a ticket at the last minute because her mother had come home very much upset.

"Felicity!" Donna Smoak shouted angrily, barging into her room as she was getting ready to leave.

"Mother, what's happened? You look upset," Felicity asked nervously, looking at her mother's reflection on the mirror.

"Upset? With what I have just found out, upset seems more like an understatement!" her mother yelled, tears pooling in her angry eyes. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what, Mother?" Felicity stood and turned away from her dresser to face her mother completely.

Donna flung what looked like a page from the _Herald_ onto her bed, and instantly, Felicity's jaw dropped. Her blood ran cold. She knew what this was about. Her mother had found out about her secret.

"Noah Kuttler! Seriously, Felicity? How could you do this behind my back?!"

Felicity's lips quiver but they forget how to function. Tears began to stream down her face as she realized how deeply she had hurt her mother. Feelings of betrayal and disbelief were evident on her mother's face and body language.

Donna asked again, "How long have you been writing for the Sunday paper using your father's name? What possessed you to do such a thing?"

"I…" Instead of giving an explanation, she posed a question. "How did you find out?" she asked as she collapsed like a ragdoll onto her bed.

Donna let the hands on her hips fall on her sides as she approached her daughter. Taking a deep breath, she tells Felicity, "The Bowens. They met with potential business partners when they were in New York some weeks ago. Remember when I couldn't go to Ms. Lind's concert? Anyway, one of them was your father. Of all the people they could have met in all of the places in this world, it had to be your worthless liar of a father! Noah took money from them for something that he claimed was a worthwhile investment – a huge amount of money, Felicity! The Bowens tried to contact him again to check on their investment, but he was nowhere to be found. He ran, like he always did. The authorities in New York City are still looking for him."

Donna paused to take deep breaths. She was trembling in anger and sheer frustration. When she was able to calm down somewhat, she continued. "The Bowens read the papers, Felicity. But today of all days, they took notice of the byline in one of the featured articles. Mr. Bowen was shocked that a man of the same name was writing for the Sunday _Herald_. I was serving them breakfast and overheard their conversation. As soon as I heard your father's name, I knew. It had to be you writing the column." Donna looked down at the page of the _Herald _that bore her father's name and cried.

"Mother…" It was all Felicity could say as a form of apology for keeping this from her mother.

Donna looked up at her sadly. She held her daughter's shoulders and said, "Felicity, darling, I know why you did it, and I appreciate that you are only trying to help by working another job, albeit under false pretenses. I just couldn't believe that you would keep something like this from me. Does anyone else know?"

Felicity was ashamed to admit it, but she had to tell the truth. She had hurt her mother enough. She nodded in affirmation.

Donna frowned. "Who?"

"Dr. Wells and Barry. Dr. Wells was actually the one who got me the job. He believes in me, Mother." Felicity bit her lower lip after the confession. She had a feeling she had just hurt her mother even more, admitting that other people had known beforehand instead of her. Donna's facial expression said as much.

What her mother told her next, though, was something that Felicity had not expected.

"Well," Donna sighed heavily, devastation evident in her voice and on her face, "I hope you were able to save enough from your job at the paper for the both of us. In my shock, my mouth must have gotten ahead of my mind and I accidentally blurted out in front of the Bowens that I knew who Noah Kuttler was. They demanded I tell them everything I knew, or they would let me go. So, I did. I told them that Noah was your father and that we haven't seen him for more than ten years. I told them that I don't know where he is now, but they wouldn't believe me, so they still let me go. Worse, they also intend to go to the _Herald_ and expose their columnist as a swindler, which means, you are about to lose your job, too."

How could things go from bad to worst so swiftly? Felicity was just as devastated as her mother.

The very next day, the editor and the owners of the _Herald_ marched into the orphanage escorted by the police. They demanded that Dr. Wells surrender Noah Kuttler to them. Hence, Dr. Wells was forced to reveal Kuttler's true identity so that Felicity will be cleared of any criminal allegations. The paper fired Felicity and threatened to sue her for misrepresentation. Felicity and her mother were invited to the precinct for questioning about the whereabouts of Noah Kuttler.

The next few days were an emotional circus for Felicity. She was so confused and bewildered at everything that was happening. She was overcome by guilt and shame and self-loathing and fear. She blamed herself for the misfortune she had brought upon her mother and herself. She never wanted to set foot on a police precinct ever again. She did not even visit the orphanage. Whenever she was at home, she locked herself up in her room and refused to see anyone but her mother. Dr. Wells and Barry were worried about her, and so was Oliver.

Oliver called on her twice to find out what the problem was, but Felicity refused to see him. She was much too ashamed to face him. What will he and his family think of her now? She made her mother and her friends promise not to tell Oliver a thing about her present predicament. What worried Oliver most was that Felicity was not even willing to see him as the Green Arrow. For the first time since she met her green hooded friend, the window at her fire escape was closed that Saturday night.

That next day, Sunday, Oliver figured out what was wrong when he read the Sunday paper, only to discover that Noah Kuttler's column was nowhere to be found.

* * *

_**A/N: And so the plot thickens and the angst picks up as we approach the climax. I hope you are still there. It would be nice to know. :-) "Never Enough" and "Tightrope" are coming up.**_


	8. Chapter 8: Never Enough

**The Greatest Bowman**

**Chapter 8: Never Enough**

* * *

Felicity could not decide whom she missed more – Oliver Queen or her nameless archer-friend. She had already allowed her friend Barry to visit her in the past week, but she had not found the courage yet to let anybody else in. She was hurting from the travesty and disgrace that she had partly brought upon herself and was partly due to her father's ill reputation for criminal activity. She was still much too broken and ashamed to face both her handsome, affluent suitor and her nameless, weekend fire escape confidante.

After more than a week of seclusion, she was somewhat ready to pick up the pieces and get back on her feet. Barry convinced her the other day to come back and teach at the orphanage. He told her that the children miss her tremendously, seeing that Christmas was coming in just a few days, which was why she had gotten up from bed early and prepared to go to work – her actual, legitimate work. Losing her column and her job at the _Herald_ was something she had been mourning for almost two weeks now. How could losing such things feel as if she had lost a dear loved one? She struggled to move on from the loss, but she knew that she had to. There was more to life than writing for a newspaper that refused to acknowledge the giftedness of the female gender. Donna and Barry had advised her as much, and finally she had acquiesced to come out of hibernation and return to work.

Felicity had come to realize that the fact that she still had a decent employment, thanks to Dr. Wells, was already a blessing and a cause to be grateful. So many other women were still confined to the four walls of the home, trying to fill in exclusively the stereotypical role of homemakers that society expected of them. Felicity already had a lot to be thankful for, even if she was no longer sure of what the future held in store for her now that her good name was tarnished by a public scandal, no matter how minor. She prayed every night that Starling City would be more forgiving and more forgetful, so that the repercussions of the debacle involving her would fade away from their memories sooner rather than later.

Her mind was still very much occupied by such musings as she walked to the orphanage early that winter morning. She was not really mindful of her surroundings, especially since taking her usual route to work had become second-nature to her. She was not even aware of how an ornate, black carriage had come to a screeching halt on the cobbled street. It was the sound of a familiar voice calling out her name that had broken her out of her introspective thoughts.

"Felicity!"

She turned and saw Oliver leaping off the carriage in his dark winter coat. He removed his Victorian top hat as he approached her with an expectant look on his face and an enthusiastic gait.

"Good morning, Mr. Queen," she greeted him out of courtesy, but her body language indicated that she was quite anxious and unprepared for the chance encounter. She could not even look at him directly.

Oliver noticed the way she was rubbing her wool-gloved hands, using the coldness of the weather as an excuse to look at everything else around her except his searching eyes. He sensed her palpable discomfort at the unplanned rendezvous, but he was more sadly disappointed that she resorted to an uncharacteristically impersonal greeting, for he thought that they had already crossed the line from friendship to courtship weeks ago. She must still be hurting from whatever it was that happened with the _Herald_, he thought. He was not about to reveal to her that he already knew about her secret just so that he could comfort her; he simply thought it best to follow her lead, even if he felt as though he was taking a couple of steps backwards in their relationship.

"Good morning, Ms. Smoak. It is so good to see you," Oliver greeted her in response. "How are you? I've been wanting to see you, but your mother and Dr. Wells… They told you me you weren't willing to see visitors."

Felicity looked up to meet his gaze for a second or two. She saw earnestness in his beautiful blue eyes, but she was unsure of what exactly he would think of her if she tells him about how she had been unfortunately entangled in a somewhat damaging farce. The thought of what his family members would say about her and her family background had crossed her mind more than once, and that same negative thought resurfaced right then.

She sighed deeply as she looked down, fixing her gaze on the top hat in his hand. "I am much better today, all things considered. Thank you for asking," she told him.

"Are you on your way to the orphanage?" asked Oliver.

"Yes. It's my first day back since…" Felicity replied, her voice fading away towards the end.

Ignoring the trepidation that was so evident in the way she spoke with him, he offered, "Well then, would you afford me the privilege of bringing you there in my carriage? It is quite cold today, don't you think so?"

"It is," she said, looking at him again, this time able to hold his gaze longer, "and thank you for your kind offer, but I would much rather walk the rest of the way. Walking does keep me warm." It was true, but it was only half the truth. The other half consisted of her not wanting to humiliate him by being seen with someone like her and him carelessly ignoring the possibility that it might blemish his public image.

"Allow me to ask you to reconsider. It isn't too much trouble, really. I will pass by the orphanage en route to my destination anyway. Please?" Oliver pleaded. If it weren't for the regal manner that he carried himself in public and his calm, well-modulated voice, he could easily be mistaken to be practically begging for her to grant him this opportunity to spend even just a limited time with her.

Felicity saw the sincere desperation in his eyes, realizing that he must have missed her as she had missed him during some of the most miserable days of her life. The thought made her feel a little bit better. She nodded in affirmation and flashed him a small, shy smile.

* * *

Felicity sat quietly beside Oliver in his carriage. Admiring the luxurious and elegant interior of his private transport was a welcome distraction for her, but it did not completely take her mind off the unease that she felt in being with him, in being this close to him. She had already second-guessed her decision to go on this ride twice in the last minute. How could she not feel anxious when hardly an inch separated them, his fingers almost brushing lightly against hers?

Finally, Oliver spoke, wanting so much to clear the air between them. "Felicity," he began to say, using the name that he has learned to adore, "whatever it was that happened, whether or not you choose to tell me about it, I will not hold it against you. I don't need to know. More importantly, it does not change the way I feel about you, nor does it change my humble intentions of offering you marriage in the foreseeable future."

Felicity gasped, overwhelmed suddenly by the candidness of his speech. His words were certainly reassuring, and she appreciated him all the more for it. Yet, she could not help but feel reluctant to give him the chance to keep wooing her, knowing that eligible bachelors like him who came from the upper crust of cosmopolitan society were undoubtedly influenced by the opinions of family and fellow socialites about who they should or should not marry. The prospect of marriage was an even more complicated subject for her to deal with at the moment. Oliver had always made his intentions clear from the very beginning of their courtship; she knew that he really liked her, but she did not realize until then that he had been seriously pursuing her all the way to the altar.

Thus, she replied, more sternly than usual, "And your family? Your friends? What will _they_ say when you tell them that you are seriously pursuing a lowly immigrant who is too ambitious for her own good and was fired from her job on charges of misrepresentation?"

"What they say or think does not matter to me. Not as much as _you_ do. I never thought I could be happy again… after the island. The darkness – it can be suffocating at times. You are the only person who has been able to harness what little light I still had left inside me," Oliver answered with conviction. He even took her hand and squeezed it for good measure to assure her of how serious he was.

Felicity listened to him with her heart, and strangely enough, his words suddenly reminded her of someone else. She wanted to give Oliver her undivided attention, yet she could not help but think of similar sentiments that the Green Arrow had shared with her during their evening talks. The man, who had become a very close friend, had spoken to her about the darkness, too – the kind that mercilessly swallowed up those who had gone through poignant pasts and severely traumatizing experiences. If she thought about it insightfully, she really ought not to complain about her recent misfortunes when other people like the two most special men in her life at the moment had more reason to lose hope of ever finding happiness and fulfillment. Felicity suddenly felt ashamed of herself for wallowing in self-pity in the past days. All of those thoughts raced across her mind in a split second, and when she was able to refocus her attention on Oliver, she opportunely caught his next well-meaning words.

"You are a good person, Felicity, and an amazing young woman. Anyone who refuses to recognize that is a fool. Your brilliance, your wit, your passion, your kindness… All of your admirable qualities keep drawing me to you. I have never felt this way about someone before."

Felicity turned to him and said, "I… I don't know what to say. I guess I should thank you for your kind words." Just then, feelings of insecurity came rushing back. Before she could think twice about verbalizing them, she utters unintentionally, "But your mother… I do not think that she feels the same way about-"

Oliver was quick to respond, turning to face her as well. "My mother has a penchant for meddling too much in the affairs of her grown son, even when she means well. I can make my own decisions, and I will marry whomever I please. My father assures me as much. And even if he does not, I can stand on my own two feet. All I want is the chance to be yours, Felicity. I truly hope that you would still give me that chance, even after everything that has happened recently."

Felicity stared at him, meticulously studying the expression on his face. His carefully chosen words, as well as the intensity in his eyes, made her heart flutter and rendered her speechless. She dropped her gaze and stared at their linked hands as the carriage came to a stop in front of the orphanage.

"Let me prove my intentions one more time, Felicity," Oliver requested. "Come with me to the Christmas Eve Ball at Queen Manor. It would be an honor to have you by my side."

Felicity closed her eyes and took a deep breath. How could she resist his charm when it was accompanied by an equal measure of sincerity? After uttering a simple prayer that she would not regret the choice she was about to make, she opened her eyes and smiled, telling him, "Alright, Oliver. I will be there."

Oliver grinned. She could tell that it was not just because she had once again called him by his first name, but also because she had acquiesced to accept his invitation, thereby granting him permission to continue their courtship. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her wrist, sending a pleasant shiver up her spine.

"The invitation is also extended to your mother. I would love for my family to meet her as well," Oliver added.

"Oh," Felicity responded, quite surprised but also quite pleased. Extending such an invitation to Donna Smoak was yet another indication of the sincerity of his intentions. And it did not hurt as well that her mother would finally have the opportunity to meet the famous soprano. "Thank you for the invitation. I will make sure to tell her."

"Please, do. My parents have invited Ms. Jenny Lind to provide some entertainment. My best friend Tommy Merlyn was kind enough to work things out with Mr. Barnum so that she could perform a few songs for our guests that evening. I'm sure your mother will find the ball enjoyable because of her presence."

Oliver got down from the carriage and held out his hand to assist her in doing the same. They bid their farewells and agreed on the arrangements for the ball that was happening in a few days' time. Felicity climbed the front steps of the orphanage with a giddy smile on her face. Just before she opened the front door, she turned back and found him still standing there, watching her fondly. She waved him one last goodbye before he got on the carriage and went on his way.

* * *

The Queen Manor was spectacularly bright with a multitude of candles and lamps. The ballroom was embellished for royalty even though Felicity was quite sure that Oliver had not mentioned anything about anyone from nobility or monarchy being in attendance. The evening stirred with life as well-dressed guests mingled enthusiastically in the grand room, with a string quartet providing exquisite music in the background.

The Queens were still preoccupied with receiving guests in the foyer, which meant that Felicity and her mother had to wander around uncomfortably among the wealthy, the cultured, and the high-browed, waiting for Oliver to finish his social obligation and rejoin them in the ballroom. Donna was content sitting in a corner and sipping her wine, humming along as the chamber musicians played familiar melodies by the European masters and watching interesting people converse with a flourish.

Felicity, on the other hand, chose to keep standing and moving around in the spacious room as inconspicuously as possible. She could not keep still, feeling both unsettled and excited over how the evening might unfold. Truth be told, she had contemplated not coming more than once in the last couple of days; however, she did not want to break Oliver's heart just because she felt a little paranoid that she or her mother might be subjected to some form of discrimination or worse, humiliation, either by the Queens' distinguished guests or by the Queens themselves. Upon their prompt arrival half an hour ago – thanks to the carriage that Oliver had sent to fetch them – Felicity had been pleasantly surprised at how warmly Robert and Moira Queen had received them. It seemed that Moira Queen was in a positively jolly and festive mood when she shook Felicity's hand, putting her best foot forward in meeting Donna Smoak in front of her son Oliver. Felicity had thought that she just might find the rest of the evening gratifying, and that perhaps, the Queen matriarch had finally decided to give her a chance to prove herself worthy of their son's affections.

Dinner was lovely, and so were the conversations exchanged at their table. Felicity sat between Oliver and her mother, dining contentedly with the Queen family and, much to Donna's ecstatic approbation, with the guest of honor, Ms. Jenny Lind, who was seated between Oliver and Tommy Merlyn. The menu for the ball was scrumptious. Felicity thought that every dish served was excellent; even her mother, who was accustomed to finely cooked meals at the Bowen household, thought so.

It was sometime during dessert that Felicity first noticed how the Swedish soprano kept stealing furtive glances at Oliver. From the corner of her eye, she observed how Ms. Lind would, not so subtly, touch Oliver's hand while remarking on something or teasing him with an enticing glint in her eye. Felicity wondered why a woman with such beauty and grace had to resort to flirtation just to get a man's attention. The sensational singing star certainly did not need it; she had everything a woman could ever ask for. Did she not have enough attention that she would crave it from someone else's beau?

Felicity also wondered why Oliver appeared to be oblivious to what the woman was obviously trying to do. Did he not notice at all how Jenny Lind's glances and touches were bordering on being inappropriately suggestive? And if he had, why was he just sitting there and allowing it to happen? Felicity was anxious that his polite passivity might encourage the woman and embolden her to do more. Feelings of jealousy began to brew inside Felicity's heart, such that by the time dinner was over and Ms. Lind's mini concert began, Felicity was already finding it almost impossible to smile.

"Before I sing my final song for the evening, I would like to thank the Queen family, especially Mrs. Moira Queen, for their gracious invitation. Thank you, for a wonderful evening! This has been one of the best Christmas Eve balls I have ever had the pleasure of attending," Jenny Lind said in her Scandinavian accent.

The soprano then stepped away from the pianoforte and approached the hosts' table. "This last song is especially dedicated to you," she added, looking at each member of the Queen family. She locked her eyes on Oliver last, just as the pianist began to play the introduction to a popular German lied.

Ms. Lind sang powerfully and passionately, her voice echoing throughout the room and captivating every member of the audience save one. Felicity was not the least bit impressed and could not wait for the woman to finish her last note. For some reason, Felicity felt that Jenny Lind did not have the best intentions at heart, and she proved herself right. For by the time the soprano ended the very emotional art song, she was already standing right beside Oliver. Without warning, Jenny Lind bent down towards him and stole a kiss – a kiss that her suitor did not even attempt to evade.

Felicity spent the rest of the night trying to regain control over her emotions, but she was fighting a losing battle more quickly than she would have liked. When she eventually found her predicament unbearable, she feigned illness just to persuade her mother that they take leave earlier than the other guests. If Oliver had noticed how upset she had become, she thought that he certainly did a poor job of showing his concern. He was definitely disappointed that they asked to be excused so early in the evening, but he could not leave the ball to personally see to it that they get home safely, so he simply expressed his regrets and promised to call on them the next day.

As soon as her mother had retired for the night and the door to her room was closed shut, Felicity's tears began to flow. It was not enough that she had lost her father when she was younger. It was not enough that she had lost any remnant of respect for the man. It was not enough that she already lost her column, her job, and possibly even her chance to go to college. She just might lose her only suitor to a woman that had just captured the hearts of his family members and his circle of friends. Surely, Robert and Moira Queen preferred someone like Jenny Lind over one Felicity Smoak.

Felicity cried herself to sleep that awful night. She wanted nothing more than to tell her hooded friend how wrong he had been. She should not have been so gullible as to believe that she could ever be with someone like Oliver Queen.

* * *

**_A/N: __I know, things haven't been looking up for Oliver and Felicity lately, especially Felicity. But what is a plot without conflict and angst? Hang in there. Just two more chapters left. It really would be nice to hear from you at this point. How has this historical fanfic crossover been for you so far?_**


	9. Chapter 9: Tightrope

**The Greatest Bowman**

_A/N: I apologize for taking SO LONG to post an update to this fic. My other WIPs were easier to update in the midst of a hectic RL, and this was harder to write too. I hope that you are still there. Please let me know if you are. I surely will appreciate it._

_Because it's been so long since the previous chapter, I am including a summary below. If you are binge-reading this for the first time, you may skip the summary._

* * *

**_Previously on "The Greatest Bowman"_**

_Felicity Smoak is a Jewish immigrant in America during the time when P.T. Barnum's circus was rising in popularity in Starling City. As a brilliant young lady with dreams of success, she works as a teacher in an orphanage to save for a college education. She also secretly writes for the Sunday edition of the Herald under a masculine pseudonym to make more money, and only her friend Barry and their employer Dr. Harrison Wells knows about her sideline. Fascinated by Barnum's shows and hired talents, she is captivated by the mysterious hooded arches who goes by the title "The Green Arrow," who in turn, is just as captivated by her endearing charm. Their friendship grows with his nighttime visits during weekends via the fire escape just outside her bedroom window._

_In a charity gala, Felicity also meets Oliver Queen, one of the richest, most eligible bachelors in the city, also known for having been marooned in an island for three years after a boating accident. Their acquaintance is strained at first due to a misunderstanding, much to Oliver's disappointment (because he develops affections for her), but they are able to reconcile and rekindle their interest in each other at the opera house after watching the concert of Swedish soprano Jenny Lind, which was produced by Barnum himself. Oliver asks permission from her mother to pursue a formal courtship and takes her on a romantic dinner date. The only problem is, Felicity does not know that Oliver and the Green Arrow are one and the same person - a secret that only his best friend Tommy Merlyn knows._

_As Oliver and Felicity's feelings for each other grow, trouble brews. A chance encounter of Felicity's mother with her employers leads to an inquiry about the whereabouts of her estranged father, Noah Kuttler, who turns out to be a crook. The Herald demands that their contributing writer that goes by the same name turn himself in, which leads to the revelation that Felicity has been, in fact, the woman writing the controversial weekly articles in the paper under false pretenses. She and her mother lose their jobs. Felicity is humiliated and devastated but is able to get back to work at the orphanage. Oliver assures her that this does not change the way he feels about her. However, their relationship takes a wrong turn during the Christmas Eve Ball at the Queen mansion where invited guest Jenny Lind performs and puts Oliver in a compromising position, which Felicity misinterprets to mean that Oliver isn't sincere about his intentions towards her. _

* * *

**Chapter 9: Tightrope**

Felicity's feet kept moving her forward down the cobbled streets of her neighborhood even though her mind was on something else entirely. It was a good thing she knew the streets in this part of the city by heart that she did not have to worry about missing a turn or getting lost as the remnant glows of sunset began to fade. She knew the safest shortcuts, as well as the precarious places that she needed to avoid, especially if it snowed again that evening. She had even memorized where the potholes and manholes were.

Starling had become her home. Or not.

She was starting to question whether or not this city was indeed where she planned to stay for the rest of her life. It was beginning to suffocate her. She did not know how long she could live with how unkind and prejudiced people can be, and by how unfair career opportunities were for women like her, however gifted and deserving they were of equitable chances to thrive in their chosen fields. She did not know if she could ever trust anyone – aside from her mother, Barry, and Dr. Wells – ever again. She knew that no city was perfect and that everywhere in the known world, society, in general, did not treat women with equality, yet she was still starting to justify why a move in the foreseeable future was something she should seriously consider…

…because her struggle was not just about social customs and society's prejudices and unfair practices. She also did not know if she could stay in the same city as Oliver Queen.

Since the Christmas Eve ball at the Queen family's mansion a week ago, which was followed by her breaking off their courtship the very next day in the form of a brief and somewhat impersonal handwritten note, which she had a courier deliver to him, she had been avoiding his avid suitor. He had attempted twice to call on her – once at her home, and just the other day, at the orphanage, but she had spurned both his efforts to explain his behavior towards Ms. Lind at the ball. Felicity was still hurt. She was disillusioned, and she felt humiliatingly gullible to believe that romance between someone like him and someone like her had a chance at all, when it turned out to be just an elusive dream, a fairy tale that she had been so foolish to consider becoming a reality. Why should he not welcome the bold advances of gorgeous women in the elite circles? Of course his family would prefer him marrying someone like Jenny Lind over a lowly Jewish immigrant like her with a tarnished work track record. It did not matter how Oliver felt about her. The rich and famous were known to marry for prestige, no love.

Felicity made her way to Barnum's theater. She wanted to be there for the show that night, not because there was a new act by the brother-sister trapeze artists that she had met when Tommy Merlyn had given her a backstage tour months ago, but because she could not wait until late evening for the Green Arrow to make his way to her fire escape after the show. She wanted to see him action again; maybe the entertainment would do her good. She wanted to surprise him at the rear exit for the cast and crew; maybe seeing his lips curl up to a smile beneath that hood upon seeing her would do her good. She wanted him to take her by the hand and walk her home that night; maybe an extended time of pouring out her heartaches to her dear friend would do her a world of good.

* * *

With just a few blocks remaining between her and Barnum's circus, panic in the atmosphere broke Felicity out of her musings. Some men, women, and children were shouting as they scurried towards her, coming from the direction of her destination. They seemed dreadfully concerned about something as they came nearer, and some of them stopped along the way to answer the queries of curious bystanders.

"Fire! Barnum's circus is on fire!" Felicity overheard a young man tell the newspaper vendor at the nearest street corner.

From a few feet away Felicity heard a middle-aged woman tell her companion, "Nobody knows how the blaze began or if the fire department has been alerted yet," to which her equally concerned female friend replied, "Oh, I hope the firemen arrive soon! It would be a shame if Barnum loses his theater."

Catching up to the pair, a third lady went on to say with a trembling voice, "I know Barnum has many critics, and there are still protesters picketing outside the circus every now and then. But I'd hate for the man to lose everything he's worked so hard for. My family's just starting to patronize the circus." The first lady remarked again with an anxious tone, "But more than that, I hope nobody gets hurt in this fire!" Her friend replied frantically, "I know! They say some of the circus performers are still trapped inside!"

Felicity was done listening. She approached the women in quick steps and asked them, "The circus is on fire, you say?" The women nod in unison. "Do you know if the performers are all safe? Is anyone hurt?"

One of the women, the one wearing a black, woolen, winter bonnet answered, "Some of the cast and crew members were already outside, watching the fire that they say started in the storage room, spread inwards and upwards. They said some of their friends are still trapped inside." The woman's friend added, "We could no longer bear to watch from across the street, and the smoke was getting thicker all around by the minute, so we decided to leave. We don't know it the others got out. The rescuers and firemen hadn't arrived yet when we left."

Felicity was not rude, yet this time she did not spare any second to pause and thank the kind strangers for sharing the information. She took off, running in the direction of Barnum's theater, breathing in the cold winter air. She was oblivious to the fact that it began to snow, and was not the slightest bit anxious that she might slip as she ran.

In less than two hundred meters, she could already smell the smoke. She could also hear the shouts of people from the next block and the peal of the bells of the firemen's trucks. As she ran past Church Street, which was parallel to the one where Barnum's theater was, she could see the brightness of the blaze behind the building of Starling National Bank and Trust. In that moment, fear gripped her heart. The fire was bigger than she thought. Looking up, the black pillar of smoke looked monstrous against the backdrop of the darkening sky.

The sight that greeted her as she stood in front of Barnum's theater rendered her speechless and scared. Thick, grayish black smoke hindered the naked eyes of onlookers like her from seeing how badly the interior of the structure was already damaged. She saw some of the circus performers standing a safe distance in front of the burning edifice, many of them in tears, looking utterly devastated. She made her way to them through the bewildered, frightened crowd.

* * *

Felicity stood beside little man Charles, whose Gen. Tom Thumb costume was covered in dirt and torn at the seams at the right shoulder. She put her hand on the man's shoulder and said to him, "I'm so glad you got out safely." Charles merely looked down at his boots.

"Most of us got out when the fire was still confined to the storage and prop rooms," said Josephine, in between sniffs. Felicity had not even noticed the bearded woman approach her from behind. "The others who were setting up in the theater were trapped at first. They came out one by one when some of men went back in and managed to get the huge wooden beam that blocked the main door out of the way." The woman paused, obviously trying to keep herself from crying. Shock was still evident in her voice and on her face.

Felicity looked around. Seeing the mixture of shock, fear, and devastation on the faces of Barnum's talents and production crew, her heart broke. Their lives would never be the same again after this, she thought. Tears began to pool in her eyes. She emphasized with their losses. She knew exactly that felt.

The sorrow and sympathy she had for them soon gave way to terror when she realized that she could not find her hooded archer-friend anywhere. She was about to ask them if they knew whether or not the Green Arrow had gotten out safely, when Charles spoke sadly, tugging at her arm. "Mr. Merlyn is still trapped inside," the little man told her.

Felicity gasped at the revelation. Tommy Merlyn was a good man and a really generous acquaintance. He did not deserve to die, not like this. "No one tried to get him out?"

"The Green Arrow did," Josephine immediately answered.

Felicity froze.

"The rescuers and firemen tried to keep him from going back inside to save Mr. Merlyn, but he wouldn't have it. He fought his way through the barricade they'd set up over there and climbed the brick wall to that second floor window. He still hasn't come out." The bearded woman's voice trembled as she spoke. She was obviously frightened and anxious for their fellow performer.

Felicity's heart pounded in her chest upon hearing everything that the woman had just recounted. Her hooded friend had gone back into the burning building to save his friend. "How long has he been in there?" she asked them, her voice quivering just as the first tear finally fell from her eyes.

"I don't know for sure. A couple of minutes maybe, just before you arrived here," Charles replied.

Five minutes. Her archer-friend had already been in there for five minutes, maybe longer. How could anyone survive in there that long? Surviving in there long enough to find Mr. Merlyn was one thing; getting Tommy and himself out of there alive was quite another. To say that Felicity feared for her dear friend was no doubt an understatement.

A barricade had been set up by the authorities to keep civilians from interfering with the firemen that worked hard to fight the raging fire and extinguish the blaze. From where Felicity and Barnum's cast and crew stood behind the barricade in front of the building, they could already feel the scorching heat. How much hotter could it be inside the blazing structure? Who could even breathe inside it? Mere seconds of inhaling the smoke and the fumes were enough to debilitate anyone, causing death by suffocation and asphyxiation in no time. It looked like the ceiling of the entire first floor was ready to give way and cave in any moment. When that happened, the second floor where Mr. Merlyn's office was located would surely go down with it. Had the Green Arrow found Tommy? How was he going to get Tommy out of there safely? Would they be able to come out before the monstrous blaze devoured what was left of the theater's structure?

Everything in her ached. Felicity could not bear any more loss in her life right now, especially not the lives of people who have shown nothing but kindness to her. What harsh and heartless joke was this? She had come to pour out her heart to a trusted confidant tonight, but she was going to lose even more in the process.

Tommy Merlyn was an amiable and magnanimous gentleman, despite what some people in Starling might think of him just because of his estrangement from his influential father.

And the Green Arrow… Felicity did not even dare think of losing the only friend she had gained in the past months, the one who had given her hope of a brighter future, the man who believed in her and encouraged her to be the best version of herself despite the odds. Based on the stories he had shared with her, she felt that he had already gone through enough suffering in life, and he did not deserve to leave this cruel world this way. If he perished in this catastrophe, how could she even properly grieve the loss of a dear friend when she did not even know his name? What grave would she visit? Which family would she condole with? The thought of losing him _this way_ made her feel like she was being strangled. She could not breathe. She could not move. She could not do anything, and she hated it. She broke down sobbing beside Charles and the others.

She could not even call out his name.

She did not know his name.

She may never get to know his name.

* * *

Felicity was oblivious to the concern that Josephine and the others were showing her. The bearded woman took the weeping blonde in her comforting arms, but Felicity seemed inconsolable at the moment. Josephine, Charles, and the others did not even understand why she was lamenting in this way, as if she had known the trapped men all her life.

The next thing they knew, the sound of a man's voice echoed in the evening air. "Look! Over there!"

Everyone's eyes followed the direction to which the anonymous person was pointing, and there they were. A hooded figure bearing an unconscious man strapped on his back stood on the edge of the burning building's rooftop.

"Ms. Smoak, look!" Charles alerted Felicity, pointing to the rooftop.

Felicity lifted her chin from Josephine's chest and turned to where Charles was pointing to. Upon seeing the sight on the rooftop, she gasped in awestruck wonder. Was it really _him?_

She watched as the hooded man nocked an arrow with a rope tied to its end and shot it to a thick, wooden post across the street where the General Store was. The man tied the other end of the rope securely to a metal beam on the roof, and then after checking that the unconscious man was just as securely strapped to his back, he jumped over the rooftop, using his bow to slide them both down the rope into safety.

Yes, it was definitely _him._

Felicity heaved a relieved sigh. Both of her friends were alive. They were going to make it through this. Or so she thought.

Felicity and the others were unable to come closer to the two men that had just escaped the burning building. The rescuers had gotten to them first, and the police made sure that no unauthorized civilian could come near and interfere. Before long, the rescuers lifted the archer and an unconscious Tommy into the nearest carriage that the police could commandeer to rush the injured men to the hospital. They watched as the carriage sped off, feeling both relieved, that their friends had escaped the fire, and anxious, because they had no idea what condition both men were really in.

Felicity walked home in silence, still struggling with a mixture of emotions. By the time she got home and finished telling her mother everything that had happened, she was still crying. Donna tried her best to comfort her daughter, even offering that they sleep beside each other in her room that night. Felicity acquiesced, falling asleep in her mother's embrace, after she opened up to Donna about how she had become best friends with the Green Arrow in the past months. She confessed that she still did not know his true identity, but that she had come to know him as the most sensitive, caring, and loving man she'd ever met, and that she had come to trust him and care about him as a bosom friend whom she would hate to lose because of an unfortunate tragedy.

All she could do that night was wait and pray for Tommy Merlyn and for the Green Arrow to be alright. _They had to be alright._ She decided that she would see them first thing in the morning when the visiting hours in the hospital began.

* * *

The next morning, Felicity got ready to go to the hospital early. She was already in the waiting area even before visiting hours were supposed to start. She was anxious to see Tommy and the Green Arrow even though she did not have a plan yet how she was going to locate her archer-friend's room, considering she did not even know his name. She thought that the receptionist behind the information desk might think it strange and suspicious if she asked to see the Green Arrow, the other man that was brought in from the fire at Barnum's theater the night before. She was not even family. Still, she decided that since there was no other way, so she was going to do exactly that.

Thirty minutes later, Felicity got the information she needed in order to find Tommy Merlyn's room. It was a private room, and it was too quiet. No one was there to watch over him. She shook her head upon realizing that Malcolm Merlyn was a hard-hearted father after all.

She sat on the stool beside Tommy's bed and spent a good ten minutes offering prayers for his healing and recovery. She waited for him to wake up so that she could let him know that she visited him and wished him well, but after five more minutes, she thought it best to leave. She had to go back to the information desk and bravely ask where she could find the circus archer that had gotten injured last night.

Just as she closed the door of Tommy's room behind her, a vaguely familiar voice called out to her in the hallway. "Ms. Smoak!"

Felicity turned to the direction of the man's voice and saw none other than Robert Queen approaching her with a pleasantly surprised look on his face. When Mr. Queen stopped in front of her, he said, "Ms. Smoak, what a surprise! I did not expect to see you here."

"Mr. Queen, sir," Felicity stuttered, unsure of what to say to the distinguished father of her former suitor. "Yes, I… I was here to see Mr. Thomas Merlyn. I learned that he'd been injured in the fire last night. He is a very good… acquaintance of mine."

"Oh, that's very kind and thoughtful of you," Robert Queen replied. A faint yet friendly smile adorned his face as he added, "Although, I must say… I most certainly thought that you were here to see my son Oliver."

"Oliver?" Felicity's heart sank as his name left her lips. "Has something happened to him? Is he ill?" she asked worriedly, her bewilderment undeniably evident in her voice and in her eyes.

"Oh…" was all that the Queen patriarch could utter. He was clearly putting together some puzzle pieces in his mind. After a few seconds, the older man sighed and then remarked, "I am so relieved that we are not the only ones in Oliver's life that he'd been keeping secrets from."

Felicity shook her head, stupefied at what Oliver's father was attempting to point out. With narrowed eyes and a creased forehead, she asked again, "I don't understand. What are you trying to say, Mr. Queen?"

A sad smile accompanied Robert's belabored words. "The fire… Oliver was injured in the fire last night," he began to explain.

"Oliver was there last night?" Felicity asked. "But why?"

"It appears my son has been living a double life for quite some time now. If it weren't for the fire last night, my family would not have found out that he is the Gr-"

"Robert! There you are!" a woman's voice suddenly caught their attention.

Turning in the direction of another familiar voice, Felicity saw Moira Queen emerge from inside the room two doors down the hallway from Tommy's room.

"Felicity!" Moira said with a gasp. "Oh, I am so glad that you're here!"

Moira was equally surprised to see Felicity speaking with her husband. Nevertheless, this time, she wore a distinctly different expression on her tired, haggard face. Obviously, the woman had been crying. Surprisingly, the woman seemed happy and relieved to see the young woman that her son had been courting against her wishes.

"Oliver's been running a fever since his emergency surgery late last night," Moira continued to say as she approached her in quick strides.

Surgery? How serious was Oliver's condition? Felicity was baffled, and her concern for the man, whom she had developed deep affections for, grew by the second.

"The doctors say that the burns have given him some kind of infection. He's barely conscious and he's been delirious. He's… he's actually been calling out your name. I was going to send Robert to get you."

Felicity's chest heaved as her heart pounded in her chest. She could not believe what she was hearing. The man who had hurt her, whom she had just recently decided to give up, and whom she still loved was seriously ill. Furthermore, as her mind processed the avalanche of information and revelations in the past few minutes, she realized that she could only come to one logical yet unbelievable conclusion.

"Oliver…" she whispered, covering her mouth with her fingers. She could barely keep herself together. She looked up and said to the Queen couple, "May I please go in and see him?"

"Of course, my dear," Robert answered. "Go right in. We'll be waiting out here." Moira nodded in approbation as well.

Felicity walked into Oliver's room. Slowly, she approached him, and when she was close enough, she gently touched his badly burned, bandaged hand.

"Oh, Oliver…"

She closed her eyes and allowed the tears to fall. She gave herself a moment to weep. It was as if the dam of pent up emotions had given way.

After a few minutes, she finally calmed down. She pulled out a handkerchief from her purse.

When she looked up, she saw his bow resting on the table on the other side of his bed. That was when she finally allowed herself to believe what she had suspected only moments ago. She was not supposed to find out this way. Not this way.

"Please, God, please get him through this. I can't lose him – not Oliver, and certainly not my best friend. I… I love him. Both sides of him. And he deserves the chance to know."

* * *

_A/N: Please don't be mad that I left it at that. The final chapter that follows will resolve all issues and conflicts, and I assure you, the ending will be a satisfying one. :-) Thank you for reading and still following this story! I am grateful._


	10. Chapter 10: From Now On

**The Greatest Bowman**

_A/N: I apologize for taking soooo long in posting this final chapter. I had more than 50% of this epilogue written out more than a month ago, but writer's block and real life really got in the way of me finishing it. Also, when I posted this chapter in AO3, I forgot to do it here. But, here it is. At last. :-) I hope you find this ending satisfying._

_Summary: After the tragic fire that raised P.T. Barnum's theater to the ground, Oliver awakes in his hospital room to find the love of his life beside him. They finally get the chance to talk._

* * *

**Chapter 10: From Now On**

Felicity had kept vigil at Oliver's bedside all day. She had refused to leave his side, not even when the Queens had offered to take her home to eat and rest. All she had asked of them was to send word to her mother, for she had not wanted Donna Smoak to be worried about her being gone all day.

When Robert and Moira Queen had returned in the late afternoon with their daughter Thea, and a full-course meal carefully and neatly packed in a food basket, Felicity had obliged them and stepped away from Oliver's bedside to eat quietly at the table in the corner of the room. The Queens had left for home in the evening, giving way to Felicity's request that she be allowed to stay with their son and look after him. Mr. Queen had taken advantage of his influence as a regular charitable donor to the hospital's fund and secured permission for her to stay beyond visiting hours.

Felicity was now alone with Oliver in his dimly lit private room. She sat quietly beside his sleeping form, relieved that the fever had broken a few hours ago. She was also relieved that the doctors had assured them that the worst of the infection was over and that the quinine seemed to be working for him. The burns on his hands and arms would heal in time, as new skin would eventually grow on the injured parts, albeit the remnant scars that would remind him of his ordeal for the rest of his life. The wound, which Oliver had sustained on his left leg when he freed Tommy from the debris, had been cleaned and closed by the surgeon and would also heal in time.

His lungs, just like Tommy's, were the problem. Oliver had been inside the burning building too long, and breathing in all that smoke had taken its toll on his lungs. He was still not breathing as well as the doctors wanted him to, which was why he was still being sedated to keep him from over-extending himself if he were awake and alert to his surroundings. The doctors explained that his lungs needed some time to recover; hence, he needed to be confined in the hospital for a few days.

Oliver would be making a very slow yet full recovery. That was the doctors' prognosis, and everyone including Felicity was relieved. It did not matter if it took him a day or two, maybe more, to wake up. All that mattered to her now was that he would, so that she could finally tell him how much he had come to mean to her – both as Oliver Queen _and_ the Green Arrow. She wanted to tell him how much she cared about him and how thankful she was to God for sparing him from the fire that had sought to claim his life prematurely.

She also wanted to tell him that she regretted feeling jealous of Jenny Lind and doubting his loving intentions towards her. Earlier that day the Queens had spoken with her about how much their son loved her and how he had adamantly made it clear to them that he intended to marry her with or without their approbation. When she asked about why Oliver behaved the way he did in Ms. Lind's presence, Moira Queen was quick to explain that it had been her doing; she had coerced her son to treat the Swedish soprano with a little more respect and hospitality than usual, and in exchange, she would treat Felicity with a little more civility than she would otherwise, for her son's sake. Moira had apologized profusely to Felicity, not just for that incident, but for how she had been acting towards her from the beginning, saying how much she regrets prejudging Felicity. After listening to everything that the Queens had to say, Felicity had abandoned all her doubts and misgivings in favor of reconsidering Oliver's previous offer to continue with their courtship and move forward to a more committed relationship.

She could not wait for him to awaken. She wanted him to know that she already knew his secret. She wanted to tell him that in spite of it, her feelings for him had not changed, and that, in fact, her feelings for him have only grown so much deeper and stronger in the hours that she had spent at his bedside pondering their relationship, if at all that were possible. She knew that it was, for she felt it in her heart of hearts.

How could she not? Now that she knew that the handsome and honorable gentleman, who had been wooing her all this time, was actually the hooded archer that came to her fire escape at night every weekend. The most eligible bachelor in Starling, heir to the Queen estate, the survivor that had returned from an island a changed man – he was the humble circus performer that had enthralled her from the first day she had watched him at Barnum's show. He was the one that had risked his life in order to save their common friend, the same one whom everybody (including her) was now calling a hero. He was her trusted friend, with whom she had shared some of the most satisfying conversations she had ever had with another human being. He was the one that believed in her when hardly anyone else in the city did – the one that made her feel valued. Accepted. Loved. Protected. He turned out to be the very same man that had fought boldly against cultural norms, social expectations, and parental pressure for the freedom to choose who to love and who to marry. And he had very well chosen _her_.

How could she not be sure about her feelings towards him?

* * *

Oliver stirred.

The movement broke Felicity out of her musings, causing her to stand and gently take one of his bandaged hands. "Oliver?" she whispered, bending forward to hear what he seemed to be muttering between his chapped lips.

His eyes did flit open, but it took him a few seconds to become aware of his surroundings. He was still in so much pain, yet the way his tired eyes brightened, as soon as he recognized the angelic face of the woman he yearned for in his fever-induced dreams, showed how much he was delighted to see her. "Fe-li-ci-ty…?" Her name slowly but sweetly rolled off his tongue.

"Yes, Oliver. It's me. I'm here," she replied.

"Where am I?" he asked, his lips quivering.

"You are in the hospital. You saved Tommy, and he is also recovering in another room. You both survived the fire," she answered. Oliver simply nodded. "I know that you must be in a lot of pain right now, but the doctors say that you are going to be fine. Go back to sleep and rest."

Oliver was not the least bit interested in slumber. Somehow his body told him that sleeping was all he had been doing for almost an entire day. Shaking his head slightly, he asked, "Did everyone make it out?"

"Yes. Cast and crew are all safe."

At her answer, Oliver closed his eyes. Relief is evident on his haggard and battered face. When he opened his eyes again, he asked her about another thing that clearly made him anxious. "And my family?"

"They've been with you since you came out of surgery. They just went home to rest," replied Felicity.

"Do they know?" He was afraid to ask, even if he already knew the answer. "Do you…?"

Felicity understood exactly what he was inquiring about. She did not want him to be anxious about whether or not she and his family thought differently about him now that they had uncovered his secret, so she comforted him with an affectionate smile. "They know, and they still love you," she told him whilst carding her fingers through his hair with a tenderness that rivaled a mother's touch on her child. "I know, too," she added, her eyes gleaming at him with pride, "and I love you even more for it."

Her confession of her feelings for him made his heart soar, but it also made him gasp. The action caused his lungs and chest muscles to constrict, leading to a mild coughing fit and causing him to gasp for more air. She massaged his chest with her palms while whispering soothing words to calm him down. When the coughing finally subsided, she gave him some water to drink.

Setting the glass of water down on the nearby table, she said to him, "Would you like to know what everybody in Starling is saying about you? Everybody is calling the Green Arrow a hero. The headline in today's paper focused mostly on the fire that raised Barnum's theater to the ground. I wouldn't be surprised if tomorrow's paper prints an article that focuses on you, Oliver Queen, as that very hero. Your parents mentioned earlier that journalists have been hounding them between here and the mansion, practically begging for interviews and statements. I doubt your father and mother can evade their persistence for long."

Oliver was quiet for a while as she once again got settled on the chair at his bedside. He watched her carefully with searching eyes, as if he could find the answers he was looking for just by gazing into the windows of her soul. He must have found that option wanting, because after about a minute, he still mustered the courage to speak. "And you?" he asked. "Who am I in your eyes now?"

Felicity stood and sat down beside him. She bent over him, just enough for her to cradle his cheek in her hand. "Oh, Oliver… I would have eventually found out anyway that you and the Green Arrow were the same person. I do not begrudge you for keeping your secret identity from me, though I would have preferred you revealing it to me during one of our nighttime conversations just outside my window. You had solemnly kept my secret, as my dear hooded friend, and in spite of it, you never treated me differently."

"I'm sorry, Felicity. I did not want you to find out this way. I was waiting for the right time to tell you," said Oliver, the intensity in his weakened voice betraying the regret he felt within.

"Shh… Save your strength," she comforted him. "There is nothing to forgive, Oliver. I understand. And knowing what I know now? It has only endeared you more to me in more ways than one." She lowered her face to him and kissed his forehead. "I am so, so proud of you, my darling," she confessed, brushing the pads of her thumb against his cheek. "From now on, my heart is yours and yours alone."

Oliver responded sincerely, "From now on, there will be no more secrets."

"I would appreciate that very much," she replied with a smile.

He stared at her lovingly and said, "I love you."

"I love you, too," replied Felicity.

He lifted his chin towards her and tried to raise his head in an attempt to capture her lips. However, he was much too weak and still in pain to achieve his goal. She immediately sensed this, and she welcomed his intent with as much longing. Lowering herself towards him some more, she met his lips in a chaste yet sweet kiss. It did not matter if his parched lips were rough against her softer ones. They both savored the moment until it lasted. She allowed her lips to linger on his until she felt his lips curl up into a smile. Pulling away from him slightly, she looked into his blue eyes, which mirrored the ardent affection that was palpable on her own pair of blue eyes.

"Rest, my love. Regain your strength. As soon as you are released from here, I promise I'll be right beside you every step of the way as you convalesce." Then she chuckled a bit as she added, "I seem to have gotten the impression that your mother will welcome my presence in the mansion to help care for her recovering son." She winked fondly at him, and he smiled back at her with so much delight that his facial muscles did begin to protest.

* * *

Six months after Oliver's release from the hospital, the Queen family announced his engagement to Felicity Megan Smoak. Another six months later, they were wed. They lived with his family in the manor for two years until the Victorian styled house that Oliver had built for them on the outskirts of Starling City was completed. During that time, Felicity got accepted into the teachers' college upon the recommendation of both Robert Queen and Dr. Harrison Wells. Oliver financed her education, and she went on temporary, extended leave from teaching in the orphanage.

Sometime during her first semester, Felicity conceived. It was a joyous occasion when the family physician confirmed that they were indeed expecting their first child. Oliver suggested that she take leave from her studies and return after their child was weaned, but she insisted that she could handle completing her studies during her pregnancy and afterwards, when she was supposed to be taking care of their newborn. They argued about it a few times until Oliver finally conceded.

Felicity gave birth to a beautiful baby girl that summer, and they named her Mia. She then began her second year in the teachers' college in the fall. She had written to the dean of the college for permission to bring along her infant and a nanny to school so that she could nurse baby Mia in between classes. She and Oliver paid one academic year's dues for a room in the women's dormitory where she and the nanny could take care of the baby's needs during the day. Although quite unorthodox, considering the history of the college, the dean had obliged and allowed Felicity to do her motherly duties while pursuing her teacher's certificate. The next summer, the Queens and the Smoaks celebrated both Mia's first birthday and Felicity's graduation from the teachers' college.

Felicity resumed teaching in the orphanage as soon as Mia was weaned. She was aware that the conventional values of her in-laws and of the people that moved in the same social circle as theirs contradicted her own. She and Oliver had often discussed how most people disapproved of her being a working mother, especially since she did not really need to work in order to earn a living anymore, what with Oliver making more than what their young family needed, as well as expecting to inherit so much more than what they already enjoyed. Nevertheless, Felicity did not let the preferences of critics dissuade her from her dedication to making life better for the orphans in Dr. Wells' institution.

Three years later, Oliver surprised Felicity on her birthday. While previously he would gift her with jewelry, designer clothing, and out-of-town vacations, this time he handed to her a document making her the owner and editor of the Starling City _Herald_. Apparently, a month prior, Oliver had gotten wind that the proprietors of the paper were moving to Boston and were planning on selling in order to finance their move, the house they would build, and the business that they wanted to start there. After a series of private consultations with the owners of the newspaper, it took him only three days to complete all the legalities involved in the transaction with the help of his lawyer. Upon receiving her surprise gift, Felicity was ecstatic. "Oh, Oliver! This is the best birthday present ever!" she had said to him, rewarding him with a passionate kiss that morning.

Felicity now had a daughter to raise, orphans to teach, and a newspaper to run. It was perfectly clear to her, though, that Oliver and Mia were her priorities, so she began to hire employees to whom she delegated most of her usual responsibilities and tasks in both the orphanage and the paper. She employed not just able men but also able women who were willing to work hard to earn their keep, as well as a respected place in society. In time, both the orphanage and the paper expanded, and Felicity also had the privilege of participating in the women's suffrage movement. Like her husband, she became one of the most well-known philanthropists and influencers, not just in Starling City, but all across America.

P.T. Barnum also recovered from his losses after the fire. He had rebuilt his circus and began holding performances in giant tents instead of in a theater. In a few years' time, he had successfully sent out circus performers in smaller companies all across America, providing entertainment to audiences young and old.

From time to time, Felicity took Mia to watch these shows whenever a company was in Starling City, and especially when her father was scheduled to do guest performances as the Green Arrow, unmasked. Each time Oliver emerged from behind the red curtains dressed in his green leather, the little girl would point to him and shout from the stands, "The Green Arrow is my Daddy!"

In the eyes of Mia Smoak Queen, he was the greatest bowman ever. Their daughter grew up adoring her father, just as her mother always did.

* * *

_A/N: Thank you so much for following this story and reading to the end! I am very grateful, especially for those who have left encouraging reviews. Now that we bid this AU farewell, perhaps you can drop a line or two saying what you liked or appreciated about it, especially since it was meant to be a crossover with "The Greatest Showman." It would also be nice to hear your response to this story being a Felicity-centric fic, which is my way of giving tribute to Emily Bett Rickards' iconic portrayal of the character in Arrow. Comments and reviews would be much appreciated. :-)_


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